Ashes to Dust
by onecouldn'tsee
Summary: AU End of 1x12. Stiles didn't know why he couldn't watch Peter die but it doesn't matter now. Now that Derek wants revenge, Scott feels betrayed, and Stiles and Jackson are a part of Peter's new pack. Stiles/Peter Derek/Jackson
1. Prologue

The cold breeze danced along Stiles' cheeks as he looked out at the dark forest. The sound of rain was soothing but he could still smell charred flesh. He thought for a moment the smell would never leave him. He ran a trembling hand over his head. It was stupid, really stupid, but he couldn't help but think of that movie. The one about the werewolves and vampires. And that hot chick. That line about a single night of flames and retribution. Or something like that. It was only one of many of the thoughts racing along in the sickening swirl of Stiles' brain. One night. In one night he'd lost pretty much everything he knew. He'd betrayed his best friend and the people he'd grown up with. He'd nearly died trying to protect a murderer. Stiles let his head sag against the rock to his right.  
>"Oh my God," he exhaled slowly. His dad was probably worrying about him right now too. He should get home. But he didn't really have a choice.<p>

There was a shuffle and a groan behind him. Stiles tensed before turning and looking back into the cave.  
>"Stiles," Peter wheezed, "water…" Stiles shoved his hands into the rain and cupped them together tightly. As soon as he had enough he turned and moved to Peter, as carefully and as quickly as possible. He let the water trickle past Peter's blackened lips, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.<br>"Shouldn't you be healing?" he questioned, desperation edging into his voice.  
>"I'll be fine," Peter wheezed, eyes squeezing tight in pain. Stiles sat back, his body colliding with the rock wall. He clenched his hands on top of his knees before inclining his head. It looked like he was praying and maybe he should have been. He didn't know what he would do if Peter died. Not after what he'd done. Peter was all he had left.<p>

He closed his eyes and listened to the soft huffs of Peter's breath intertwining with the rain outside. He wished it was all one dizzying blur. But it wasn't. Stiles could remember everything that had happened since he'd stepped out of Jackson's Porsche. Every single thing.  
>"Stiles." It was so quiet Stiles thought he might have imagined it. He looked to Peter anyways. His lips moved, even though no sound came out. 'Thank you' he mouthed. A stupid smile worked at Stiles' lips.<br>"Thank me later."

_A/N: This is a teaser. All will be revealed lol. And I know it's super short. I just really wanted to get it posted. ;) _

_Thanks._


	2. I: Reconstruction

Stiles chewed on a thumbnail aimlessly as he paced. His feet dragged over the stone, displacing leaves and dirt every so often. He had to keep moving. He couldn't fall asleep.  
>"Can't fall asleep," he mumbled to himself, hitting his head, "can't fall asleep." The stuttering of Peter's breathing paused and Stiles stumbled towards him. He fell on hands and knees, shoving his face right in Peter's, trying to see if he was still breathing. Peter inhaled weakly and his eyes cracked open.<br>"The boy," he whispered, "I need the boy." Stiles frowned.  
>"What boy?"<br>"The boy that wants it," Peter said significantly.  
>"Jackson? Why?"<br>"Need strength," Peter said, eyes squeezing shut. "Need a pack." Stiles swallowed roughly.  
>"Okay so bite me." It was a moment before Peter answered.<br>"You don't want it." Stiles opened his mouth to argue and Peter cut him off. "Just get him."  
>"Alright," he sighed. He stood before crouching back down. "What if you die while I'm gone?" Peter's mouth twitched and Stiles couldn't tell if it was a smile or a grimace.<br>"Then help him bury me." Just picturing Jackson's face dragging a corpse through the woods had Stiles smiling again. How did Peter keep doing that? Stiles stepped out of the cave, taking in the rising sun as he slid his phone from his pocket and turned it on. He ignored the texts and voicemails, scrolling through his contacts. Thank God Stiles had always been good about getting information that might be handy later. Like Jackson's phone number.  
>"Hello?" Jackson mumbled, voice sleep heavy.<br>"Meet me at the edge of town, now."  
>"What? Who is this?" Jackson's voice got sharper as he woke himself up and Stiles could picture him sitting up in bed and flicking on a light.<br>"It's Stiles you dumbass, now come meet me."  
>"Hey fuck you Stilinski. You owe me a Porsche."<br>"Yeah? Cause you owe me a life." There was a long moment of silence.  
>"What are you talking about?" Jackson demanded.<br>"Do you want to be a werewolf or not?"  
>"I'm on my way," Jackson said before the call disconnected. Stiles shook his head and set off. He could only hope Jackson would already be there by the time he made it on foot.<p>

Jackson was, leaning against the driver's door of his second car. Stiles nearly snorted then. He had to remind himself that he needed Jackson. Fantastic. "It's about time," Jackson said, eyebrows arched disdainfully.  
>"Do you ever shut up?"<br>"You brought me out here to whine like a bitch?" Stiles' hands curled. He reminded himself again that he needed Jackson.  
>"We both know who the bitch is here. Let's go." He didn't wait for Jackson's reaction; he spun quickly and headed back in the direction he came. Stiles was vaguely surprised when he heard Jackson follow him without any more complaints. Jackson didn't speak at all as they made their way back to the cave. Stiles heard him swipe at branches every so often. Whether or not he actually needed to smack them remained a mystery. Stiles wondered if Jackson was freaking out yet. Then he forced his attention back to Peter. Peter. The alpha. The man that Stiles couldn't watch die. The fact disturbed him. Stiles could chalk it up to seeing too much death already in his life. But a lingering dread told him it was more than that. He'd betrayed his best friend for Peter. His <em>best friend<em>. There was most definitely something more going on. And sure, Scott had been less attentive and in fact a pretty shitty friend since this whole wolf thing had started but still…Stiles was loyal to a fault. He just didn't know how that loyalty had seamlessly shifted to Peter. In a matter of moments. It baffled Stiles. To say the least.

He didn't hesitate at the mouth of the cave, stepping right in. Peter had managed himself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. He looked more human than when Stiles had left, but also closer to death. He must have been using power to heal himself. Stiles scowled before looking back to Jackson, who was lingering in the mouth of the cave.  
>"Really?" Stiles demanded. After another moment, Jackson stepped in. He took his time making his way to them. Stiles knelt down. Jackson joined him after a shaky exhale.<br>"Come closer," Peter said. Jackson leaned in. Peter crooked a finger. Stiles shoved Jackson forward until he was practically in Peter's lap. Jackson's entire body went tense as his eyebrows encroached dangerously on his forehead. "Calm down. I'm not going to kill you," Peter paused and closed his eyes, breathing slowly, "intentionally."  
>"What?" Jackson yelped, voice suddenly hoarse.<br>"You want this or not?" Stiles interrupted, losing his patience. Worry and panic were gnawing at his already frayed nerves. He had no patience for Jackson at the moment.  
>"Well…yes…I just don't understand…" his hand did a mad little dance between Peter and himself. Peter swung his gaze to Stiles, expression pleading.<br>"The closer the bite is to the heart the faster it will work," Stiles droned.  
>"Uhm," Jackson let out, voice going unnaturally high, "alright, alright, go." Peter tugged Jackson's head back with one hand. He growled louder than Stiles thought he could, the sound echoing off the walls. A small scream worked its way out of Jackson's mouth as Peter's teeth extended and he bit his exposed throat. Stiles flinched away. It was over quickly and Jackson scrambled away from Peter, past Stiles, one hand over the wound on his neck. Jackson was muttering to himself, eyes firmly closed. Stiles couldn't make out the words. He really didn't care to. He watched Peter carefully. His thoughts were drawn back to the night before without his consent.<p>

_Everyone had been distracted when Stiles cranked the Porsche's engine. He wedged a stick on the gas pedal and dove out of the way. He heard more than saw it crash into the Hale house. The maltov cocktail slipped from Jackson's fingers harmlessly and Peter dropped to the ground, rolling in the mud furiously. Stiles ran forward, bolting around Peter's hunched form and skidding in the mud just in time to block Derek's path. Derek let lose a fierce growl, locking Stiles' muscles in adrenaline laced fear. He didn't move.  
>"Stiles! What are you doing?" Scott demanded, the words nearly growls, "Get away from him!" Stiles shook his head, not taking his eyes from Derek.<br>"It can end now," he said, pleaded. "Kate broke the code and Kate is dead. It can end now. No one else has to die."  
>"I can't be human anymore if he lives," Scott said, stopping by Derek's side. Stiles shook his head again. He shot a quick glance to Jackson, who was looking at his Porsche but surprisingly hadn't moved to it. Allison was being forcibly held back by her father.<br>"No one else has to die," Stiles said again. "Please, just stop."  
>"Where were you when he killed my sister? Who said no one else has to die for her?" Derek demanded, crouching lower to attack.<br>"Where does it end?" Stiles questioned, voice nearly cracking under the pressure.  
>"When he dies," Derek said. "Now get out of the way, or I will kill you."<br>"And then the Argents will kill you." There was no denial or agreement from the hunters behind him.  
>"I don't care. Move Stiles. Now." Derek took a step forward. Stiles flinched but remained where he was. Derek growled again.<br>"You can't kill him," Scott protested weakly, wolf features melting away.  
>"Shut up!" Derek roared, turning to Scott and shoving him away. The next thing Stiles knew he was being yanked backwards by the collar of his shirt. Peter dragged him through the woods until his legs gave out. He phased back to a human, still half charred. It was left to Stiles to find cover, as he desperately tried not to wonder why he'd done what he'd done. <em>

Stiles inched himself closer again, shaking off the memories and focusing on Peter. Why they got here didn't matter. The fact that they were here did.  
>"Better?" he whispered.<br>"Depends if he makes it." Stiles examined him for a long moment.  
>"You want to increase your odds?"<br>"I wouldn't mind having you as my own, no." An odd thrill went through Stiles at the words. Stiles didn't know why this was happening. Sometimes all there was to go on was instinct. He slid his body closer to Peter's, until they were almost touching, then he leaned his head away. He inhaled deeply, neck exposed, and waited. He deliberately avoided thinking about what he was doing, as he had been since…pretty much since asking Lydia to dance. A hand settled on his right shoulder unexpectedly and Stiles' eyes cracked open to see Jackson there, expression unreadable. Stiles didn't glance to Peter, couldn't really. He closed his eyes again. Jackson squeezed his shoulder and there was a brief pause before Peter bit into his neck. Stiles gasped. He'd always been quiet with his pain. It hurt so badly tears stung his closed eyes and he was glad of Jackson with him. Jackson who'd already been through this. Jackson who was helping Peter, even if he was helping himself as well. Peter withdrew his mouth almost tenderly, one of his hands falling on Stiles' left shoulder heavily. "This isn't self serving at all," he breathed, "but I really hope you both survive." Stiles managed a weak smile.  
>"What a coincidence, I really hope you both survive too."<p>

_A/N: So this story… Hmm.. I don't really know where it's going lol. I should really stamp that as a disclaimer on my forehead before I even get out of bed in the morning. _

_All I can promise right now is Jackson Stiles and Peter in a pack and planned Stiles/Peter. [Yes slash. The fun stuff. :D]_

_Anyways, hope you like!_


	3. II: Completion

Stiles had no concept of time when he woke up. All he knew was that he felt…kind of good. He sat up and scrubbed a hand down his face. The daylight was blinding. He couldn't really remember passing out. Though he thought that made sense. He blinked slowly, waiting for his eyes to adjust. It took another couple moments to realize the dancing shadows were coming from the mouth of the cave. Stiles looked there. Peter was silhouetted against it, pulling himself up to the rock and dropping back down. Stiles' mouth ran dry. He licked his lips, trying to fix it. They tasted salty. Still vaguely fruity. He thought back to the punch at the dance. God it'd been hours since he'd eaten. His stomach growled as it contracted painfully. Peter dropped in a crouch before turning. The sun glinted off his teeth.  
>"Feeling better?" he asked softly. Stiles' ears picked it up easily.<br>"I'm starving," he said.  
>"Give me five minutes." Stiles grimaced.<br>"Please don't tell me that you're going to hunt something down, kill it with your teeth, and try and feed it to me." Peter crossed back to him and Stiles averted his eyes to the rock. He was _so _naked.  
>"Traditionally I would eat and regurgitate it for you." Stiles gagged.<br>"Oh _God_." Peter chuckled.  
>"Sorry."<br>"Where's Jackson?" Stiles asked as the thought occurred to him. "He didn't…" Stiles' hands clenched. He was immediately averted to the idea.  
>"He's on his way back now. Quite proud of himself too." Relief swamped Stiles so profusely that for several moments he couldn't speak.<br>"God," he let out, head sagging to his chest. "That's just…really good news." Peter touched his shoulder, massaging gently.  
>"I'm glad pack mentality has taken hold so quickly."<br>"Pack mentality…" Stiles breathed, mostly to himself.  
>"You both stayed with me through the transition. Things are progressing well."<br>"Yeah, you look…" he wasn't blushing, hell, who was he kidding, "good." Peter smiled wordlessly.  
>"Hey," Jackson said, "you're awake." He smiled, bags hanging from one hand. Stiles couldn't help but smile too. Jackson stepped into the cave and handed the bigger bag to Peter. "I brought food," he murmured. Saliva flooded into Stiles' mouth. Peter stood again and stepped over Stiles, moving to the back of the cave. Jackson sat in the space he'd vacated, setting the bag of food between them.<p>

By the time Peter had dressed Jackson and Stiles had devoured the food, littering the ground with scraps of paper.  
>"Holy grease buckets of joy," Stiles muttered, patting his stomach. "That tasted <em>so <em>much better than I ever thought it could." Jackson let out a loud belch, seemingly in agreement.  
>"Ready to see what you can do?" Peter questioned, tugging the hem of his shirt down over his toned stomach. Stiles looked to Jackson, who was smiling.<br>"Hell yeah," Jackson said. Stiles lifted one shoulder. Jackson jumped to his feet and offered a hand to Stiles. Working to shut his flapping jaw, Stiles took it and stood.  
>"You're going to love this," Jackson whispered conspiratorially.<br>"Love what?"  
>"You'll see," Jackson teased, smirking. Peter fell between them, one arm over each boy's shoulders.<br>"Enough talking," he said, "let's go." Stiles stumbled slightly, falling into Peter's warm side. His tongue curled around a gasp that he barely managed to hold in. His heart thundered in his ears and he tried to ignore it. Peter's lips curving up he couldn't ignore as easily. Stiles worked to shake off the feeling, gaining his feet again. When they reached the mouth of the cave Jackson took off, dirt spraying up from under his feet. "See if you can catch him," Peter said, tilting his head.  
>"Um, okay." Stiles was grateful for the reason to pull away from Peter.<br>"I'll be right behind you."

Stiles couldn't believe how fast he was running. Suddenly he could understand how Scott had become so great at lacrosse so suddenly. It literally felt like flying. Between each step he leapt over the earth. He let Jackson run in front of him. Jackson was pleased with himself and Stiles could feel it. Stiles didn't care. He wasn't trying to win. He felt good. Unexplainably good. Jackson thrummed in his veins. Peter did too. He was subtle, almost as if he fit with Stiles already. They ran in a chain, moving further and then closer with an unspoken rhythm. Stiles had never felt a part of something like this. He'd never felt complete like this. His cheeks hurt from smiling. He couldn't _stop _smiling. He put on a burst of speed, laughing. Jackson laughed ahead of him and while Peter remained quiet Stiles could feel a slight swell of pride. His smile widened. Peter and Jackson were his. He was theirs. Their own little family. He already had a family. With the thought he dug his feet into the earth, stopping so quickly his body was horizontal for a few horrifying moments. Peter was there before he'd righted himself. Jackson took a lap back around them before stopping as well.  
>"What's wrong?" he questioned, cheeks flushed, from running or joy Stiles couldn't tell.<br>"Um…I just…my dad's probably worried about me by now." Jackson didn't make a snappy comeback as Stiles was expecting. He looked to Peter.  
>"Of course," Peter said simply.<br>"I should c-call him or something," Stiles tried to find the words. How could he explain? He was all his dad had left. He couldn't just vanish for…how long had he been gone?  
>"We'll take you home. Jackson was distraught after what happened to Lydia. He was missing. You found him. Clear?"<br>"Where was I?" Jackson questioned. Stiles would have appreciated him jumping on board, if he wasn't swamped with guilt.  
>"They'll be so glad you're both back there won't be too many questions. If there are you stick together. Understand?" Jackson took Stiles by the shoulder and pulled him along. "I have a few things to take care of," Peter explained, staying where he was.<br>"You were already in town," Stiles objected; mind racing along, "my dad won't buy that anyways."  
>"Just relax Stilinski. I'm the master at bullshit and even if I wasn't, we'd figure it out." Stiles forced himself to take a deep breath, scrubbing both hands over his hair quickly.<br>"Right right," he said, "we'll figure it out." He edged out of Jackson's hold gently. "Let's run." Jackson kept pace with him, only slowing when he was in danger of running into his car.  
>"Maybe I found you," Jackson said, unlocking the doors. "Maybe you were upset over Lydia."<br>"I was in love with her most of my life," Stiles added, getting in.  
>"You were?" Stiles shifted uncomfortably in the seat.<br>"Yeah."  
>"Oh," Jackson said, not commenting any further.<p>

His hands were shaking and they wouldn't stop. Thoughts raced along sickeningly. He thought of his father and the shame that he knew he should be feeling. He thought of betraying Scott and then he thought about Peter. No matter how hard Stiles tried he couldn't find remorse for it. Not now, when he was made new. He'd changed among the ashes and soot. Like a newborn phoenix, Peter had healed him. Somehow. Jackson didn't speak, probably because he knew he couldn't help with this. Resting his head in his hand, Stiles gave into his mind again. The ride through town was too slow and too fast, though Stiles wasn't sure how. He wiped his sweating palms on his legs, trembling fingertips catching on the fabric of his pants. He didn't know what he was going to say. Stiles was beginning to freak out actually. Jackson caught his arm just as he prepared to open the door.  
>"If it helps," he murmured, looking through the windshield, "I'm glad you did it." Stiles released a sigh unexpectedly.<br>"It helps," he said. Jackson released him before climbing out. Feeling much better than he'd thought possible, Stiles followed suit. The deputy at the desk relaxed visibly the moment Stiles came through the door. He pushed off the desk with both hands and walked a few feet before yelling,  
>"Sheriff!" Stiles' father walked out of his office after yanking open the door and Stiles could immediately tell he hadn't slept. The sheriff's hair was sticking up oddly, his tie gone, the top buttons of his shirt open to reveal the white t-shirt collar underneath, the hem was half exposed as if he'd given up in the process of pulling it out, he hadn't even shaved. Stiles' guilt increased monumentally and he felt Jackson's comforting presence at his back for another short moment before running forward and colliding with his father. Arms wrapped tight around him, holding him up, holding him together. He clutched at his father's back, hands scrambling over the tan linen. Shouldn't being a werewolf make him less awkward? Stiles shoved the thought away, sighing into his father's shoulder.<br>"Dad," he mumbled, embarrassed as his eyes tightened.  
>"Son," the sheriff returned, patting his shoulder. "Where were you?" he questioned after a few more moments.<br>"You're either going to laugh or strangle me," Stiles offered, not wanting to let go yet.  
>"Oh?"<br>"I got lost."

_A/N: I love Stiles and his dad. Really didn't want their relationship to suffer. Big hugs for Sheriff Stilinski. Dude rocks. _

_Pretty sure this is going up to five parts. Did I tell you guys I was between three and five? I can't remember… *blushes*_

_Lastly. It's that time again. That's right, the time where I ask your opinion. Help me make decisions. Guide me. :3 Rating change and sexy times? Yes? No? I'm not actually guaranteeing either way…_


	4. III: Transition

Stiles rubbed at his eyes and closed his door firmly, locking it behind him. Thank God his dad had been so relieved to see him he hadn't tried to kill him. Stiles…not dying…would have been harder to explain. Jackson had driven him home before going to see his own parents and Stiles' father promised he'd be home soon. He went back over the story he'd given his father in his head. It was half decent. Certainly not the worst bullshit he'd ever sold. He went for a walk to clear his head after the hospital and wandered into the woods. After coming across a dead deer, no I don't know what killed it _God_, he'd been freaked out and ran. A while later…he had no idea where he was. He spent the night under a tree and slowly found his way back the next day.  
>"Not too bad Stilinski," he murmured to himself. Yanking off his much abused tie he tossed it on the end table before heading for the stairs. By the time he'd actually made it into his room all he wanted to do was curl up in bed. The door slid closed behind him and he froze carefully, immediately sensing Scott's presence. He smelled him before he heard him and heard him before he saw him. "What do you want?"<br>"What do I want?" Scott echoed quietly. His eyes flashed yellow. "I don't know. Maybe some sort of explanation! You could at least try!" He shoved himself out of Stiles' desk chair and stood his hands tense at his sides.  
>"He didn't deserve to die," Stiles said carefully.<br>"Bullshit! He's a murderer Stiles! Are you even thinking?"  
>"He didn't kill without reason." Stiles' hands clenched. He had to keep control of his temper. He had to stay calm. A growl ripped itself from Scott's throat.<br>"Are you insane? Literally crazy! You can't just…ugh!"  
>"What if it had been Allison? You wouldn't want revenge?"<br>"Exactly!" Scott yelled, "Allison! How am I going to be with her now?" He jumped across the room, not too fast for Stiles to see anymore, pinning him against the door. "I can't be with her like this!" Scott let out, each word more near a howl than anything else.  
>"Does the sun shine out of her ass now?" Stiles demanded, shoving Scott back and straightening his ruined shirt.<p>

Scott paused, clearly trying to reassess the situation. His eyes ran the length of Stiles several times.  
>"What have you done?" he questioned, eyes returning to their normal color. Stiles didn't answer. Scott could put it together on his own for once in his life. "You didn't…you didn't… Peter Hale isn't dead is he?" Stiles shook his head very carefully. "You can't be serious. This can't be happening." Scott stumbled back slightly, both hands clutching at his head. He began mumbling to himself, nearly every other word was Allison.<br>"Do you ever shut up about her?" Stiles demanded, knowing he shouldn't push the situation but unable not to. "You can't give up every single thing in your life for one person!"  
>"Didn't you?" Scott questioned shrilly. Stiles sucked on his lip briefly, still struggling to stay calm.<br>"I didn't give up anything I hadn't already lost." Scott growled again, lunging for Stiles. His hands were around Stiles' neck, nails digging in, before Stiles had figured out the best way to prevent it. He stopped trying so hard to think. It happened…intricately. Not like Stiles thought it would. Not at all. The change seemed to originate somewhere in his chest. It flowed out until it covered his body like a blanket. Another split second and Stiles felt like he was living a video game. His vision was swamped in red and white, Scott's face closer and clearer than it had ever been. He gripped Scott's hands with his, ripping them off. He let lose a long growl of his own. Stiles managed a leg between them, kicking Scott back. The victory was short; Scott launched himself again, knocking Stiles back, through his door. Stiles tried to scramble up among the scraps and splinters of wood but Scott's body prevented it. Scott straddled his chest, one hand over his heart, the other pressing against his neck once again. Stiles bucked, trying anything to dislodge him. It didn't work. Scott was stronger. Stiles' mouth opened wide on a howl. He wasn't sure if it was rage or panic fueled. He needed help and he knew it. It was cut off suddenly by Scott's hand completely collapsing his wind pipe. Eyes widening, the wolf fading away, Stiles stared helplessly at his best friend, the animal trying to kill him. He pried at Scott's hand uselessly, unable to stop himself from trying. Even the panic filled adrenaline drenching his heart wasn't enough. Part of him, very small, was surprised that Scott wasn't letting up. He might really kill him. He closed his eyes and tried wriggling again. No use.

Scott was gone suddenly, yanked off; Stiles discovered when he opened his eyes. Derek loomed over him, imposingly tall. He held Scott aloft effortlessly, one hand on the back of his neck.  
>"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, mouth full of teeth as he shook Scott rapidly.<br>"Get off me!" Scott yelled, legs kicking at the air. A violent growl sounded from the doorway. Peter was crouched there, eyes burning red.  
>"<em>Get out<em>," he growled, the words reverberating through the slim hallway. Stiles shivered, body writhing against the floor. Derek tossed Scott behind him, crouching down and growling as well. He jumped forward, knocking Peter into Stiles' room. The answering snaps and growls forced Stiles up. He found his feet and stumbled into his room. He concentrated, trying to bring the wolf back. Nothing happened. He had to do this. Peter _needed _him. He clenched his fists, remembering how it had happened the first time. What it had felt like. Still nothing. Derek shoved Peter into Stiles' computer desk and he vaguely wondered how he was going to explain this before trying to phase again. Peter arched up off the desk, stalking towards Derek. Derek eyed him warily, feet tracing a half circle in the floor as he avoided contact. "_Leave while you can_," Peter growled. Derek growled and ran forward. Peter caught him easily, one hand lifting him by the throat, the other yanking his arm down. The sick snapping was still clear even through Derek's yell of agony. "Stiles move," Peter ordered. Stiles ducked out of the way immediately. Peter threw Derek through the hole in the door, still watching him carefully. "I will not warn you again. You threaten my pack you threaten me." Peter cracked his neck and straightened the hem of his shirt, transitioning back to human easily, beautifully. "Take your sickly pup and go." Scott was already gone. Stiles could only hear three heartbeats. He barely contained his snort. Trust Scott to run now and leave Derek defenseless. He heard Derek struggle to his feet as Peter guided him to the bed, one hand warm on his elbow. "Are you alright?" he demanded softly.

Stiles nodded jerkily.  
>"I t-think so." Peter tilted his chin up, one hand steady on his shoulder, conducting his own examination. Stiles' skin hummed pleasantly under the touch and he let his eyes close.<br>"Things would have been so much simpler if I had just turned you in the first place," Peter mused. Stiles smiled, just a bit. There was a graze of a touch at his forehead before Peter sat beside him. "Things may become more difficult now," he offered. Stiles opened his eyes slowly and looked to his left, taking the man beside him in.  
>"What makes you say that?" he questioned dryly. There was a crash downstairs and Stiles tensed, half off the bed before Peter caught him, hands on his ribs.<br>"It's only Jackson." He was frozen. The words were heard and partly understood, but he was unable to act just yet. Jackson rushed into the room, skidding slightly. Drops of water flew off and landed in the rug with nearly silent splats of sound. His hair was damp, slicked oddly to his head. Surprisingly it took Stiles a moment to realize he wasn't wearing a shirt or shoes. In fact Stiles would hazard he wasn't wearing anything other than the low pale jeans clinging to his hips. Jackson panted shallowly as he surveyed the room several times.  
>"I was showering," he explained, cheeks flushing as his hands unclenched. "I may also have broken the front door," he added very softly. Peter tugged Stiles back onto the bed, fingertips stuttering over his ribs.<br>"What is this?" Stiles demanded, "A werewolf stop and go?" His nerves were starting to slip out of him, seemingly pulled by Peter's fingertips.  
>"It's alright Jackson," Peter murmured softly. "We have bigger problems to deal with."<br>"Like?" Jackson questioned, eyes moving off of Stiles after a moment.  
>"There's a reason wolf packs dominate an entire area. It is extremely uncommon to share territory. Especially if the intruding wolves pose a threat. Such as two betas with a grudge. It's going to get worse before it gets better."<br>"What does that mean?" Stiles questioned, unable to look at Peter.  
>"It's most likely going to end one of two ways. My nephew and Scott join…or they die." The words hung heavy in the room and Stiles focused on Peter's fingertips moving over him.<br>"What if we don't want to fight?" Jackson asked for him.  
>"Things are going to become very difficult for all of us." His fingers paused for a moment. "To ensure the safety of our pack our instincts will tell us to expand it."<br>"But we can't…change anyone…" Stiles said haltingly. He finally forced himself to look at Peter.  
>"No. However that won't stop a mating frenzy."<p>

_A/N: This story may or may not be getting longer… *shifty eyes* I'm thinking about it lol. Yeah I'm just… *gestures vaguely and debates internally* _

_I'll stop talking now._


	5. IV: Option

"Mating frenzy?" Jackson questioned quietly.  
>"What does that mean?" Stiles asked, mouth running dry.<br>"You've heard of females going into heat yes?" Each boy nodded. "It will be like that. Only worse." Peter's hand dropped away and he stood, squeezing Jackson's shoulder briefly before going to the window. "It hasn't started yet. If they make another move that will probably trigger it."  
>"Is there any way we can avoid it?"<br>"Convince Derek and Scott to leave the area."  
>"I highly doubt that's an option," Stiles said, head dropping into his hands.<br>"If you don't want to fight this will happen."  
>"I don't want to fight," Jackson admitted quietly. "I've spent my whole life fighting myself."<br>"He's still my best friend," Stiles added, "I don't want to fight either."  
>"You two saved my life. I will not ask you to fight." Relief was nearly audible in the room.<br>"So what do we do?" Stiles questioned. In the back of his mind he marveled how well they all fit together. As if they'd always been meant to be here.  
>"I suppose I'll go and talk to my nephew."<br>"Is it a good idea for you to go alone?" Jackson questioned, concern clear on his face.  
>"I'm stronger than he is," Peter said, smiling reassuringly. "Get yourself home. Stiles, maybe you could tell your father there was a break in?" Stiles sighed and nodded. He didn't want to lie to his father but he'd have to accept that this was part of his life now. He didn't imagine he'd ever be able to sit his father down for an "I'm a werewolf now" talk. His father would either take it as a joke or try to have him committed. Neither option worked for Stiles. "It will be alright Stiles," Peter murmured, crossing the room again. He sat on the bed and Stiles leaned closer before sighing again.<br>"I'll see you," Jackson said, running a hand through his hair briefly. Stiles managed a quick nod.  
>"I meant what I said. It will be alright."<br>"I just…never quite imagined my life being this complicated."  
>"Do you regret it?"<p>

There was a sadness in Peter's eyes and it made Stiles cringe. He gripped Peter's wrist quickly.  
>"I do not regret saving your life," he said seriously, "and I don't regret being a part of your pack."<br>"So loyal," Peter said his other hand covering Stiles'. "So good." Stiles flushed.  
>"Don't know about the loyal part," he mumbled. Peter's hand moved from Stiles', tilting his chin up when he ducked it.<br>"You're loyal to your heart."  
>"I…" Stiles couldn't finish the thought, let alone the sentence. His skin was flushing hot and his tongue lolled in his mouth, suddenly too big. He felt drugged.<br>"We stayed together for your change. You're mine. Just as I am yours." Stiles' chest drew tight.  
>"Jackson too," he mumbled, heart slamming his ribs. Peter smiled.<br>"Yes. Jackson too."  
>"That's why we were already in your pack. We didn't have to do anything…extra." The pieces finally clicked together in his head as he thought of Derek telling Scott he'd have to kill with the alpha.<br>"There are many ways to join a pack. But yes, staying together through the transition solidified our bond." Stiles liked this conversation. Talking about werewolves and the pack was good. He could breathe again.  
>"You're sure you're okay to see Derek on your own?"<br>"I appreciate your zeal Stiles but this is a family matter." Stiles was quiet for a long time, looking down to where his hand still held Peter's wrist.  
>"Why did you do it?"<br>"Why did I kill my niece you mean?" Stiles shifted uncomfortably.  
>"Um. Yeah." Peter was quiet for so long Stiles was considering throwing himself from the window before he answered.<br>"Revenge can be maddening." Peter pulled away from him, running a hand over his hair and turning away. "I knew Laura would never take revenge. She was too kind. Too good." He took a breath, the words obviously weighing on him. "It was left to me." He paused again and Stiles debated if he should say something. He'd probably just fuck it up. Now was no time for a stupid joke. He stayed silent. "I tried not to. I tried to ignore the pulsing need of it. But every time I closed my eyes, when I was even able, I saw the flames. The faces of my family. Even the tiniest children." He inhaled jerkily. Stiles' ears caught every tug and swing of oxygen. "I loved Laura like my own. As I love Derek. But I loved the rest of my family too. I couldn't- I had to…"

Stiles shoved off the bed, his arms wrapping around Peter's waist as he hugged him from behind.  
>"It's okay," he whispered. "We don't have to talk about it anymore. I'm sorry." Stiles couldn't imagine it. But he hadn't been through what Peter had been through. Sometimes people make the wrong decisions. Peter's spine curved slightly as his body collapsed downwards. Stiles followed, his cheek resting on Peter's shoulder blade. Peter's hands covered his arms. Neither of them spoke.<br>"You remind me of her," Peter finally said. Stiles inhaled sharply, his heart swelling in his chest.  
>"T-thank you." Peter turned in the loop of his arms. His hands swept up Stiles' neck, stopping just under his jaw.<br>"You don't have to thank me," he insisted quietly. Stiles couldn't talk again.  
>"Okay," he agreed lamely.<br>"I don't know what I would have done without you…and Jackson," Peter murmured. "If I had somehow survived on my own that is."  
>"I'm sure you would have done just fine," Stile lied in an effort to lighten the mood. Peter flashed a brief smile.<br>"You should probably call your father." He sighed. "Just as I should probably go talk to Derek."  
>"The real world," Stiles murmured, groaning slightly. Peter chuckled quietly.<br>"We'll do it together. On three." Childishly, Stiles closed his eyes. Peter gripped his hands. "One." He pulled them away gently and held them between their bodies. "Two." Peter squeezed his hands and something ghosted over his eyebrow. "Three." Peter was gone by the time Stiles opened his eyes. Stiles gripped the back of his neck and exhaled slowly. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on here. Though he wasn't sure that anyone would know what was going on in his position. He slid his phone from his pocket and dialed his father, inhaling deeply again, trying to prepare himself for the circus.

It was hours before Stiles was able to change out of his clothes and take a shower. The warm water sluicing over him felt like a miracle straight from Jesus Christ himself. He was equally as glad to finally get out of his clothes from the formal. He had his doubts about whether he'd ever wear them again. He dropped into bed in questionably clean boxers and curled against a pillow immediately. Perfect. Now he could just relax for…like…a few hours at least. He yawned unintentionally. Maybe he'd actually sleep. Stiles' eyelids drooped at the thought. Yeah. He was definitely going to sleep. One hand moved sluggishly, dragging another pillow over his head and slapping it down. There were too many sounds. Sounds he shouldn't even be hearing. They kept invading his ears, he assumed because he didn't have anything to focus on. He forced himself to focus on his heartbeat, inhaling deeply and holding it before releasing it. Slowly he drifted down, relaxing muscle by muscle. The sounds faded into a gentle buzz and Stiles sighed gratefully. He'd reached that perfect point, the one where he was _just _about to slip away… And then it was like lightning struck him. White hot heat shot through his entire body. He arched off the bed, tossing both pillows away. His skin pulled tight and for some reason his hands went to his hair, tugging at it. A broken groan slipped past his lips. His eyes were drawn down to the tent in his boxers. So this was what a mating frenzy felt like.  
>"Fuck me," he muttered, eyes closing.<p>

_A/N: GUYS. NOTE THE RATING CHANGE. (Guess we all should have seen that coming…) SERIOUSLY NOTE IT. WARNINGS BELOW._

_This has totally taken off on me. To everyone that suggested Jerek (everyone who even _thought _Jerek) thanks cos you're the reason that this is becoming a full fic. No more five parts. It's going until it's done. _

_That being said._

_I want to warn you all about several things. This is the time to jump ship. We will most likely see:_

_Revenge obsessed!Derek  
>Hurt!Jackson<br>Dub con  
>Knotting<br>Random pairings  
>Jealous!Peter<br>Posessive!Peter  
>Confused!Stiles<br>Angst!Jerek Heavy on the angst  
><em>

_I think that's it. I'm really going to try and keep Jerek on the side but there will be chapters dedicated to them. Anyways. I think that's it for now. _

_Really excited to know what you guys think. *nudge nudge*_

_Thanks for reading/reviewing…whatever you're feeling._


	6. V: Frustration

Jackson woke from a sound sleep, lungs frozen and burning in his chest. He couldn't breathe. A sound fell from his lips. A whimpering groan. It woke Danny. Jackson knew him sleeping over was a bad idea but Danny had needed to get out of his house. Jackson couldn't say no to those quirked lips and puppy eyes. Damn did Danny have the best puppy eyes.  
>"Hey," Danny murmured, touching his arm, "you okay?"<br>"No," Jackson answered immediately. "No." He threw the sheet off and bolted for the bathroom, wincing as he did. His arm was cold where Danny had touched it and his entire body was wound tight. Like he was in the middle of a run. But he wasn't. He clenched his teeth and let his head fall against the bathroom door.  
>"Jackson?" Danny called through the wood. The doorknob jiggled. "Seriously man, what's going on?"<br>"I'm-" he cut off on a groan. What was he going to say? I need to fuck something, anything at all. I'm a werewolf now and it feels like my dick is splitting right off my body. We've been friends a long time you wanna help me out? He shook his head and curled his fists. "Not feeling well," he improvised. "Go back to bed okay?" He didn't wait for Danny's answer, crossing to the shower and turning it on. He stripped off his pajama pants and climbed in, not one bit of him caring that the water was scalding. He needed distraction. Melting his skin off seemed like a good one. His head dipped into the spray and Jackson looked down for the first time. "The fuck?" he yelled, stumbling backwards into the tile of the shower. That was not what he was used to seeing between his legs. Yet he couldn't stop staring at it. Maybe he was imagining it…but it looked about two inches longer. He wished that was the only change.

Pathetically slow he reached out a fingertip and poked at the mass of flesh at the base. Shock waves radiated through his entire body and his knees gave out. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_," he spat through gritted teeth. What the fuck was wrong with his dick? He was distracted when the door swung open, only then realizing he'd forgotten to lock it.  
>"Jackson?" Danny called, "Are you okay?" Jackson scrambled to cover himself, hands landing just as the curtain peeled back. "What's wrong?" Danny questioned, frowning.<br>"I'm fine," Jackson lied poorly. "I just need you to go."  
>"Fuck," Danny said, rubbing at one eye, "I'm not going anywhere. Just tell me what's wrong."<br>"It's just…fucking personal okay?" Jackson could feel a growl building in his chest and he knew this was not going to end well if Danny didn't start running. Danny scowled.  
>"I'm your best friend," he insisted, propping one hand on his hip.<br>"Danny please," Jackson murmured.  
>"Please what?" He crouched down as his expression softened. "Please what Jackson?"<br>"You have to get out. You have to get away from me." Danny frowned and Jackson saw just a hint of his puppy eyes. That was the moment he knew he was fucked. Acting on instinct alone he yanked him closer, bringing half of Danny's body into the spray of water. Jackson slanted his mouth over Danny's groaning again. Danny muttered something, pushing against him. Jackson was gone. His body throbbed in time to Danny's heart. He was intricately keyed into Danny. His smell, his taste, even his breath. Everything. Jackson bucked against the side of the tub, whines falling out of his chest and reverberating in his head. Danny's mood changed suddenly and he was kissing Jackson back, climbing into the tub, straddling him. Jackson flipped to his back, arching against Danny furiously. Danny's mouth opened on a low moan that seemed to vibrate Jackson's entire body and Jackson echoed it before nipping at his lip and smoothing his tongue over the bite.

Jackson slipped right over the edge, completely unprepared. He howled into Danny's open lips, starting to come back down as Danny grinded against him and came as well. Jackson panted, spots flickering in his vision.  
>"Uh," Danny let out, expression blank, "what just happened?" He glanced to Danny guiltily. How was he supposed to explain this? Jackson couldn't quite respond with Danny still on top of him, even if he did have anything to say. Danny stood, slipping in the water before stumbling out of the tub. Jackson waited a few moments, mind racing, before shutting off the water and following him. He scooped his pants off the floor and put them on as he walked.<br>"I'm sorry," he said. Danny wouldn't look at him, examining the beige carpet instead.  
>"You know I'm seeing someone," he muttered after a tense silence.<br>"Dan I didn't mean for that to happen! There's just…stuff going on right now."  
>"Yeah I'd say there is seeing as you're not even gay!" Jackson covered his face briefly before bringing his hands to either side of his head. The relief was already sliding away. He imagined it was because they hadn't actually mated and he wasn't sure what that entailed anyways.<br>"I can't…tell you what's going on right now. I don't even know okay? Please Dan I'm sorry." Danny's shoulders tensed and he shot to his feet.  
>"No. Okay? No! You know how I feel about you and you've been taking advantage of that for years and I let you because- just because! Well this is too far. You can't just do this. I'm not just <em>somebody <em>Jackson. I'm supposed to be your best friend!"  
>"Dan you are I swear to God I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm so sorry please…" He wanted to step closer but he was terrified of how his body would react. Danny shook his head.<br>"No. We're done." The words were literally a punch to the gut. They took Jackson's breath with them. "Don't call me, don't talk to me, I don't want to see you right now." Danny scrambled to gather his things and left. Torn between crying and going back to the shower Jackson let him.

…

Stiles glanced around the room even though he wasn't sure why. He was alone and he'd hear anyone coming. Teeth worrying at his lip he moved the sheet further out of the way before easing his boxers down over his hips. He moaned heavily as the fabric brushed against him.  
>"Jesus fuck," he breathed, thoughts flickering in and out. When his cock actually sprung free he cursed again before staring at it. Why did he feel betrayed by the fact that Scott hadn't warned him? Then again Stiles almost felt like he should have known. He was part dog now. The thought sent a shudder through him. He knew what was happening. He knew why it was happening. He didn't know why it was turning him on. One hand slid down his stomach, wrapping just above the bundle that was nearly the size of his fist. Part of Stiles thought that was a bit unnecessary. The rest of him was solely focused on his hand. His teeth sunk into his lip again and he stroked upwards slowly. His hips bucked immediately as his toes curled. His stomach locked up, the sheer intensity of it catching in his muscles. He stroked again, half muttered curses falling out of his mouth. He was panting desperately for breath in no time, a sheen of sweat coating his skin. He couldn't believe how strongly he felt it. Almost as if layers of skin had disappeared and all that was left was a network of nerves firing off. Moans were spilling out of his chest and he had next to no hope of controlling that. It felt too good for words. The window sliding open had him scrambling. Peter paused just inside, several expressions playing over his face too fast for Stiles to examine. He looked down to the pillow in his lap, blushing furiously as his hips still surged against it, desperate for release. His boxers were visible at his knees but the scent of him told what was happening even before that.<br>"I apologize," Peter said stiffly. "I came to warn you…but you obviously already know." Stiles finally managed to stop moving, fists strangling his innocent pillow.  
>"Information received," he returned.<br>"Anything I can help with?" Stiles gritted his teeth.  
>"I'm managing just fine on my own."<br>"There's nothing to be embarrassed about Stiles. You're…adjusting the best you can." Stiles gave an indignant huff.  
>"Can you please just…" he nodded vaguely towards the window. Peter smiled before dipping his head.<br>"Of course. I'll return at a more…convenient time." Stiles turned as soon as he was gone, humping against his pillow, totally unable to control it. He heavily considered fainting when it was over, his entire body unwinding. Stiles wondered if there were even bones left underneath his skin. It certainly didn't feel like it. He yanked the sheets up over himself and the pillow that he'd certainly have to get rid of before trying to sleep again.

_A/N: Chapter written very quickly so please forgive any mistakes! _

_Wasn't intending for the Danny/Jackson to go down like that but it lends well to what I'm planning… *teasing* _

_Planning on hitting Peter up next chapt..how is he going to react to Stiles'…problem?_

_Thankies._


	7. VI: Distraction

Peter pressed himself solidly against the side of the house. He could hear every moan, every swish of fabric. In fact he was fairly sure that Stiles' scent was seared into his nervous system. More so than it already had been. He inhaled deeply several times. In and out. Clean night air. Nothing to get excited about. Nothing for him to lose control over. His teeth grinded together as they tried to extend. His betas didn't realize it but their situation was in fact easier. Survival instincts kick in; they cling to anything that can protect them. A mate can do that. Human or otherwise. But Peter didn't want to mate. He gritted his teeth again at the thought. More specifically, his survival instincts were telling him to do other things. The challenging betas were two. His pack was only three. It was not enough. Five or maybe even four would work…but three. He sighed, the carbon dioxide scraping through his teeth and escaping into the night. Animals at their base, right inside their very core, want one thing. Life. They do anything for it. Hunt, kill, even love. All animals know they cannot live forever. But they can continue the cycle. Peter's senses break the water of distraction and he's drowning in Stiles again. His head thunks back against the wall and he forces himself back into it. At the start of human civilization they worshipped fertility symbols. They carved them and formed them, painted them on cave walls. Even before a spoken language they knew. They understood. The human with the animal, now that's where it got interesting. The animal wants. The human thinks. For his betas, the animal wants to live, the human knows by putting down roots its chances increase. So the mating frenzy begins. For him, the animal wants to live, the human knows by biting more humans he increases his pack. If he didn't keep a lid on things he'd try to turn anyone he came in contact with. Peter needed to stay away from humans. It would be better if he stayed away from Stiles too. At least until Derek was no longer a threat. Peter had to keep Stiles safe. If Derek figured it out… Peter couldn't put Stiles in danger like that. The animal wanted its mate. The human knew taking him now could cause his death.

It wasn't like Stiles was ready anyways. Peter knew that. He couldn't watch Peter die and he was perhaps drawn to him now but he didn't know what was happening between them. Peter knew as time went on Stiles would figure it out. The boy wasn't stupid. And he'd probably be scared. Who wouldn't be? Peter was old enough to be his father. If he'd ever settled down and had children. But he hadn't. And now he knew why. He'd been waiting. The thought brought a small smile to his face. Even though he was, currently, living in a minefield. It wasn't that he blamed Derek for wanting to kill him. Going after his pack… Well that was different. But Peter had killed Laura. His stomach turned at the flickering memories. No he hadn't been in his right mind but still. Now that he had revenge… Peter wasn't sure that it was worth it. Would the rest of his family have wanted him to? Surely not. Surely they would have seen things as Derek did. As Peter would have as well if he hadn't been the one to do it. It was done now. He couldn't bring Laura back. He couldn't un-bite Scott. All he had now was his pack, his mate, and his revenge sworn nephew. Scott was just…there. Peter disregarded the last thought. He wasn't going to worry about Scott. So long as he didn't threaten his little girl toy Scott wouldn't do anything without Derek's say so. He had to figure out what to do about Derek. Killing him was almost certainly out of the question. Peter wasn't even sure if he would be able to. If it came down to Stiles, Jackson, or Derek he would protect his pack. It hadn't gotten that far yet. He still hoped it wouldn't. He sighed and forced his thoughts onto Jackson. The other boy had to be warned, if he didn't already know.

…

Jackson didn't bother moving from his position on the floor as Peter slid open the window and dropped gracefully into the room. Tears were still slowly making their way down his cheeks and he didn't bother trying to dispose of them. Peter knelt down next to him, fingertips grazing over his knee.  
>"What happened?" he questioned quietly.<br>"I couldn't stop," Jackson said quietly, shaking his head. "I couldn't stop it."  
>"It's alright," Peter said, tracing dizzying patterns over the plaid of his pants. "There's no one here now but me and you. It's okay Jackson." He calmed down by grating inches.<br>"He's never going to forgive me. I humped him like an animal."  
>"A piece of you is animal now Jackson. This isn't your fault."<br>"It is my fault," Jackson argued, "I should have been strong enough to stop it." Peter made a small sound, Jackson couldn't decide if it was a laugh or not.  
>"You're a newborn Jackson. Not even three days old. Trying to control it is impossible."<br>"That's not good enough." Peter shook his head. He stood before pulling Jackson up by the arms. He walked him to the bed and sat him down.  
>"You have exceedingly high expectations of yourself." Jackson didn't have an answer for that.<br>"I wanted this," he finally said. He dipped his head and ran his hands over his hair, stopping at the back of the neck and squeezing hard enough to crack it a few times. "I never even considered what would happen. It never even crossed my mind that it could make my life worse." His hands dropped away but he kept looking to his toes curling in the carpet. "It's not going to get any easier is it?"  
>"I promise you it's going to get easier Jackson. You'll gain better control. And the mating frenzy will end…eventually."<br>"Doesn't make any sense," Jackson muttered.  
>"I'm sorry Jackson."<br>"It's not your fault," Jackson let out. Why didn't Peter understand that? It was _his _fault.

He lost track of time. Peter sat with him but didn't touch him and Jackson was glad. Not only did he not want to trigger anything that shouldn't be triggered…Peter was like…an actual father for him. His brows drew together for a minute. More actual than his adopted father. He belonged to Peter. In more than a monetary sense. And that was good. He'd waited a long time to belong to someone. He didn't ever picture a family like this…Stiles as a brother too. He smiled slightly. He'd always spent so much time hating Stiles he'd never even seen past his own assish face. "I'm a douche," he sighed.  
>"You <em>were <em>a douche," Peter corrected softly. "Now you're just adjusting."  
>"I can't go to school like this," Jackson said as the thought occurred to him.<br>"No. You really shouldn't be around anyone you're not directly related to at all." Jackson's heart dropped into his stomach.  
>"You know I'm adopted right?" Peter let out a small sound, somewhat like a grunt.<br>"Maybe we should get you out of the house for a while."  
>"Oh my god…" Jackson said, cradling his head in his hands again. "You mean…my <em>mom<em>? My…dad too?"  
>"Anyone not in the pack. Anyone you're not related to."<br>"Yeah," Jackson said, voice shooting high, "we need to get out of here." He got up from the bed and crossed to his dresser without really knowing what he was doing. "Stiles'?" Peter sighed and stood as well.  
>"I suppose so."<br>"Is something…" Jackson paused, feeling both stupid and embarrassed, which actually wasn't very unusual for him, "is something going on between you two?" Peter blinked at him owlishly, fingers on one hand wiggling slowly, as if he was debating how to answer.  
>"Hm," he let out, chin dipping briefly. "Meet me there," he murmured before jumping out the window. Jackson wondered how much of an answer that non answer was as he packed, tossing clothes into his duffel bag along with his phone and laptop. His parents would freak for sure but it wasn't very often that Jackson did something against the rules and they'd just have to get over it. It wasn't worth the risk. He shuddered at the thought. Disappearing for a few days he could explain. Trying to hump either of his foster parents he could not. Jackson winced, his lips pulling off his teeth. It just wasn't an image he liked. Then again it shouldn't be… Slipping the strap over his shoulder he crossed to the window and jumped down. He set off in a quick jog, trying to ignore the slight smells wafting through the night. No smelling them, no chasing them. Straight to Stiles' house. Straight to his pack. They'd figure this out. Forcing himself to a single minded determination Jackson let himself relax slightly when he actually made it. Stiles half waved from the computer chair, turning slowly. Peter was leaned against the wall with the huge snowboarding decal on it.<br>"So what are we going to do?" Jackson questioned, dropping his bag to the floor and ignoring the obvious tension in the room.

_A/N: I'm considering hunting Peter Hale down just so I can smack him. Seriously. I had the worst time trying to write him! We do not have NEARLY enough information about him. So I did the best I could. Hope it wasn't too bad. _

_Also, next chapter will flash back about ten minutes. No way I'm not writing Peter waking Stiles up. Mwah ha ha… _

_Lastly, since I've only just decided no length limit is there anything you guys want to see? I make no promises but hey…it could work out. Asking for advice and thoughts hasn't led me astray so far. _

_Thanks guys. :)_


	8. VII: Temptation

Stiles moaned into the empty air, body shooting up as he woke again. Sleep wasn't really possible. He was late in the discovery but he'd finally gotten there.  
>"Alright?" Peter questioned, silhouette well concealed in the darkness.<br>"I'm fine," Stiles lied. Peter's lips quirked and he crossed to the bed. Stiles scrambled to sit up and Peter sat where his legs had just been.  
>"I'd prefer it if you didn't lie to me," he murmured.<br>"Fine," Stiles huffed. "I'm horny as fuck. Better?" Peter's smirk blossomed into a full smile and he leaned closer.  
>"Much." Stiles' heart shot into his throat and he tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow.<br>"Y-You're invading my bubble."  
>"Am I?" Stiles nodded frantically. "And now?" Peter whispered, leaning even closer.<br>"Um," Stiles literally had to pause, "I'm gonna go with yes." Peter's lips twitched.  
>"Does it bother you?"<br>"Is this l-lack of personal space a werewolf thing? Is it always going to be like this?"  
>"You didn't answer my question," Peter pointed out.<br>"M-Maybe you should answer mine," Stiles stuttered. He closed his eyes briefly, intensely wishing he could stop stumbling over his words like a fifth grader.  
>"No and most likely." Stiles squinted and bit his lip, trying to remember what he'd asked. "So does it bother you?"<p>

"Fuck it," Stiles muttered. He leaned forward, reaching out. One hand wrapped around the back of Peter's neck, the other curling in his lap. He couldn't believe Peter was letting him do this. He couldn't believe he was doing this. After Stiles' pause of evaluation Peter closed the final distance between them. For a moment Stiles didn't think anything. He couldn't think anything. Then it was an explosion of pure sensation. Peter was warm and strong. Softer than Stiles would have expected it. For some reason he'd been expecting teeth and pain. But it was almost as if…Peter was being careful with him. He couldn't explain that he needed more. It wasn't worth leaving the kiss anyway. Maybe this was good for now. Peter's hands were on either side of his ribs, pulling him forward. Stiles was in his lap, the other hand falling onto Peter's shoulder to keep himself upright. Peter's hands slid up his back, under his shirt and over his skin. Stiles arched under the touch without a thought. Peter let out a small 'hm' before sliding his mouth away from Stiles' leaning his forehead against his instead.  
>"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Stiles whined quietly.<br>"Figured what out?" he breathed. Why were words interrupting them? Peter smiled again but didn't answer, fingertips moving over Stiles' cheek instead. Stiles kissed him again.

…

The window was still open from when Peter had left and he swung back inside just as easily as before. Stiles moaned softly from the bed, arm swinging out as his legs splayed open under the sheets. Peter wondered for a moment what he dreamed of. It wasn't too hard to guess. Did he dare hope…? He shook his head slightly. Saliva pooled under his tongue and he swallowed, willing the lascivious thoughts away. Stiles was asleep. He was not going to do anything to him. But he wanted to. He wanted to forgo all of this waiting. He wanted Stiles to know who he belonged to. Peter inhaled deeply, slowly. He had to be careful now. So careful. You didn't lose as much as he had without learning caution. He had to take things slow. Speaking of, the way Stiles was going…slow was the last thing in his mind.  
>"Stiles." Stiles jerked up, pupils nearly covering his irises. He glanced around the room quickly, falling out of bed when he spotted Peter. He placed both palms flat on the bed and pulled himself back up. He frowned at Peter.<br>"Why are you over there? Here! I mean here. Why are you here?"  
>"Well which is it?" Stiles was a potent mix of embarrassed, surprised, and aroused.<br>"Why are you here?" Stiles repeated slowly, as if being careful of his words.  
>"We need to talk." Peter stepped closer to the bed and Stiles pushed himself up before rounding the bed and dropping into his computer chair.<br>"Okay," he let out, "talk." Peter smiled and retraced Stiles' path before picking a pillow up off the floor. He inhaled briefly before placing it carefully on the bed and leaning against the wall.  
>"Jackson will be here in a second."<p>

…

_Fantastic _Stiles thought, just what he needed. He's having sex dreams about Peter, isn't really even bothered by it, and freaking Jackson is on his way over. That's _just _what he needs really. Why isn't he bothered by it? Shouldn't he be? For one Peter is a man. A _man _much older than him. Stiles kind of doesn't even want to know how much older Peter is. And he shouldn't even be considering it because he's not gay and even if he was shouldn't he go for like…Scott or Jackson first? Scott was his best friend and Jackson really was pretty. Oh God. This was only getting worse. Stiles' nose wrinkled. He didn't want either of them anyways. Which meant he did want Peter. None of this thought process was working for him.  
>"What are you thinking about?"<br>"Nothing," Stiles responded, eyes on the floor.  
>"Clearly," Peter responded dryly.<br>"Hey! I don't need you like," Stiles waved a hand in front of his face, "in my head."  
>"I can't read your mind. You needn't worry."<br>"I don't have anything to hide," Stiles huffed, cheeks heating.  
>"Your heart gives you away every time Stiles." Stiles didn't bother responding, knowing his heart was going too fast to give any credence to his lies.<br>"I'm a teenage boy and I can't help the fact that you haven't been one for like two centuries and sometimes I have thoughts that I'd rather not share with the world okay? Jesus." The words spilled out of his lips so fast Stiles had forgotten what he'd said by the end. Peter, to say the least, looked amused. This only upset Stiles further. He was tired and horny and he didn't want to want Peter like he did… Okay so the jury was still out on that one but he was reasonably sure he didn't want to and overall things were just not going well for him right now. In retrospect he was a teenage werewolf. No one ever said it was going to go well. In fact he was reasonably sure he'd been warned several times it was going to be complicated. He sighed to himself. That hadn't stopped him. He glanced under his eyelashes to Peter, trying to be subtle.

"Yes?" So much for being subtle. Stiles dropped his eyes and sucked in a quick breath.  
>"Nothing."<br>"What were you dreaming about?" Stiles eyes shot wide as his neck jerked so he could look at Peter. He was _definitely _blushing now.  
>"S-Stuff."<br>"Anything _interesting_?" Peter asked, enunciating carefully.  
>"No." More racing heartbeats. More lies. Stiles snapped his mouth shut and tried to calm down. His heart wasn't the only one speeding along. Peter's was too. Stiles' eyebrows lifted slowly. What was going on here? "Why do you care so much?"<br>"General curiosity." Stiles smiled, surprising himself.  
>"Your heart is giving you away." Peter's face took on an disapproving expression.<br>"One day that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble."  
>"Hasn't it already?" Peter didn't answer and there were a few scrapes and scuffles as Jackson scaled the house.<br>"So what are we going to do?" he asked without preamble, dropping his bag to the floor. Peter turned to him, looking relieved. Or was Stiles imagining it?  
>"We're going to get you boys some leashes."<p>

_A/N: So this chapter is a bit short. I wanted to get it posted for 5ive. You're welcome. ;) _

_The Peter/Stiles smut…it's going to be slow peeps. People that have been following me know how I do. Anyways. I'll try to throw in some teasing if I can. Don't hate me! The plot would be SO bad if they just did it. You know it would. *squints before nodding to self*_

_Last thing.. Ship name for Peter/Stiles.. I like Steter personally. Piles is a no. But I think Halinski is good too. Thoughts? _

_Yes I have to throw something random in. _


	9. VIII: Medication

Stiles coughed in response to the words. His mouth was not suddenly, mysteriously dry.  
>"I'm sorry, what? <em>Leashes<em>?"  
>"I don't think I like the sound of that," Jackson said stiffly.<br>"I know I don't like the sound of that," Stiles corrected, latching onto Jackson for support.  
>"If I call them collars does it make it any better?" Peter questioned, examining a fingernail, expression bored.<br>"Let's go with no." Stiles stood and crossed his arms. Why he felt like he should be standing if everyone else was he wasn't sure.  
>"And if I tell you it will take away the mating frenzy?"<br>"Then I say where are we getting these leashes," Jackson replied after a short moment. Stiles sighed softly. Just like that he'd lost his ally.  
>"I know someone in Bridgeport. If we leave now we can be back by tonight."<br>"It's not even morning," Stiles objected.  
>"I'm betting the Porsche can get us there even faster." Peter smiled slightly.<br>"Let's find out." He turned to Stiles. "Get dressed, let's go."  
>"Bet I can be back before he's ready," Jackson said, smiling.<br>"I'll race you," Peter said, launching himself over the bed and out the window easily. Jackson followed and Stiles was left alone, feeling thoroughly displaced. Since when were Jackson and Peter getting along like butter on toast? And where did that leave him? He wasn't quite able to stop pouting as he dressed. His father's alarm went off down the hall and Stiles sighed. His dad was going in early again. At least he wouldn't notice him not being around. Maybe the school had given up and wouldn't call him. He could hope. He was stepping into his shoes when Jackson leapt through the window. Peter followed after another moment. Stiles' chest tightened uncomfortably. Jackson let out a quiet laugh.  
>"Still slower than me Stilinski."<br>"We going or not?"  
>"Touchy touchy…" Jackson said. Peter looked concerned and it only upset Stiles further. What did he care? He obviously had other-Jackson-things on his mind. And why did Stiles care anyway? He'd never been the best at anything and he sure as hell wasn't going to start now.<br>"Stiles is right," Peter offered, "we should go." Stiles echoed him spitefully under his breath. Peter arched an eyebrow and Jackson glanced back and forth between them.  
>"So we should go. We should go right? We should go," Jackson muttered, shifting from foot to foot. "We parked down the street," he continued. "Let's go." Stiles forced himself to relax. No use upsetting Jackson. It wasn't his fault he was so pretty. The thought spread another sour expression on his face.<br>"Yeah fine," he said, "let's go."

"I'll drive," Peter said. Jackson offered the keys without a word's protest and Stiles yanked open the door and dove into the miniscule backseat. Last thing he needed was to be sitting next to Peter for north of three hours. He grimaced as he realized that put Jackson next to Peter. He thought maybe they both preferred it that way anyways. Fine then. He didn't have a problem with it either. Gritting his teeth and running his tongue over the backs of them in an irritated motion, Stiles folded himself into the painful excuse of a seat. Peter and Jackson Climbed in within seconds of each other and Stiles' knees ended up sandwiched between their elbows. _Fantastic _he thought yet again. Peter's eyes lingered on his and Stiles let out a growl unintentionally. This was already going so well. Jackson fiddled with the radio as soon as Peter started the car and instrumental music filled the car at a low volume. If he wasn't as jealous and uncomfortable as he was Stiles might have been grateful.  
>"Interesting choice," Peter commented softly.<br>"It ah-" he paused awkwardly, "it's good after a run," Jackson finally mumbled.  
>"Hm." The atmosphere in the car only got worse as they made their way out of town. Stiles was incredibly aware that this was the time he would usually crack a joke or say something self depreciating – such were the sacrifices he made. Today, right now…he wasn't in the mood. Maybe it was worse because it was his pack. Maybe it was better because he didn't feel the need to do it. He didn't care either way. His eyes drifted to the rearview mirror each time he wasn't watching them. He caught Peter's eyes nearly every time. Stiles pretended it didn't bother him. Admittedly, he did a poor job of it. As his temper kicked up further he withdrew more into himself, remaining silent. It was actually very easy to tell when Stiles was upset. When he had nothing to say, or said nothing anyways, it was a bad sign. Peter couldn't be expected to know him that well, Stiles gritted his teeth at the thought, but he could <em>feel <em>it. Stiles knew he could feel it because Peter was more powerful than him, laughably so, and even Stiles could feel the frustration seeping off both of his pack mates. There was a tiny urge to try and fix it and Stiles quelled it before crushing it mercilessly. He had a right to be angry. He paused; tongue freezing between his slightly parted teeth. Didn't he? A frown crept onto his face muscle by minute muscle. The revelation was much quicker. He had no claim on Peter. No right to him. What was he going to say? 'I saved your life now stay the hell away from him?' He tucked his tongue carefully back behind his teeth, jaw clenching. No he had no right to be angry. Stiles sighed quietly and looked to his hands tangled together on his lap. He should focus on _why _he wanted any such claim but his mind was too distracted. He was, simply put, too depressed.

"Wait here," Peter instructed, finally pulling up outside a church. He cut the engine and got out, leaving Jackson and Stiles alone.  
>"Really?" Jackson questioned, "A church?"<br>"You're surprised?" Stiles deadpanned.  
>"So you're talking to me again?" Jackson questioned, turning towards him. There was no accusation in the question and his expression was void of any anger. Stiles sighed quietly.<br>"I'm sorry Jackson. I just…" It wasn't' that he felt he couldn't confide in Jackson, he knew he could, Stiles was just unsure about how to handle the situation. He didn't want to say it out loud yet. Maybe he wasn't ready or some bullshit like that. "Things are just weird right now," he settled on.  
>"Yeah I know," Jackson said, smiling as if he'd shared a secret. "Especially between you and Peter. You guys are like the werewolf Days of Our-" he cut off suddenly, lips quirking in thought. Jackson's expression cleared after a few short moments. "Oh," he let out. "<em>Oh<em>."  
>"What?" Stiles demanded, even though he was reasonably sure he didn't want to know.<br>"There's nothing," Jackson said around a wide smile, "there's nothing going on between Peter and I." He gestured vaguely to the church. "He's like a father to me. And you're a freaking dork when you're jealous by the way."

Stiles didn't even mind the ribbing. His mouth was split on a grin.  
>"When'd you get so clever?" he muttered, still smiling.<br>"I've always been this clever thanks." Stiles gave Jackson a playful shove and Jackson chuckled before wrapping Stiles in a headlock and digging his knuckles into Stiles' scalp.  
>"Hey ouch!" Stiles protested, still smiling. Jackson didn't release him until a shrill whistle drew both their attention. Peter stood just in front of the church, one hand in his pocket. He crooked one finger on his free hand.<br>"Ready?" Jackson questioned, giving Stiles a nearly apologetic head tap.  
>"Guess so," Stiles said, smile decreasing only fractionally. Stiles elbowed Jackson in the ribs as they crossed to Peter. He didn't expect Jackson to trip him in response. Stiles' outraged protest was stopped at his lips when he crashed artlessly into Peter's chest.<br>"Alright?" Peter questioned as he slowly set Stiles back on his feet. Blushing furiously, Stiles nodded. His eyes weren't glued on Peter long enough to miss Jackson's wink. Stiles lunged for him, only held back by Peter's hand on his collar. He made a slight choking sound and Peter released him, rubbing at the back of his neck gently. Stiles found himself unable to pull away from the touch.  
>"You two coming or what?" Jackson demanded, holding the door open. Stiles only kept himself from trying to attack again with the knowledge that Peter was right behind him. He had to assume Peter would still discourage any murder attempts. Peter's fingers slid off and Stiles half fell, half walked through the door, ignoring the self satisfied smirk plastered on Jackson's face.<p>

Stiles jerked to a stop just inside the door, Jackson slamming into his back. Blood boiled in Stiles' veins.  
>"It's alright," Peter said. Stiles forced himself forward. The shockingly beautiful woman seated on the back of a pew watched. Her eyes were so blue they were nearly violet. Stiles was immensely relieved when they swiveled off of him and to Jackson. She smiled softly.<br>"Jess get out of here until I'm finished. And go out the back." She mock saluted before sliding down. Her eyes didn't leave Jackson until she had to turn to leave. Only then did Stiles turn to look at the man who'd spoken. He waved a hand. "Bring 'em this way Hale." Stiles couldn't help flicking a gaze to Jackson for support. Jackson nodded once, swallowing visibly. Stiles' fists curled. Pretty much anything had to be better than this. "Come with me pretty boy," he said, opening a door to the right. Stiles knew that he meant Jackson. Jackson probably knew too. He ducked his head and followed. Peter gestured to a door just across, on the left. Knees weak, Stiles walked through it. It was a plain room, a cot against the far wall.  
>"Take off your shirt," Peter said, "lay on the cot."<br>"Can I ask what's going to happen first?" Stiles asked voice rough.  
>"It won't be pleasant," Peter warned. Stiles laughed, surprising himself.<br>"I figured that was kind of a given, yeah." Peter lifted a chain from a sink that Stiles hadn't even noticed. Or maybe it wasn't a chain. He looked closer. It looked like a chain but one side was flat, the other spiked. Stiles gulped. "Uhm," he let out nervously. "Silver?"  
>"It's alright," Peter murmured again, soothing. "I'm just going to put this on your back. And it's going to help." Jackson screamed hoarsely from the other room and Stiles flinched. Peter laid the chain back down and crossed to Stiles. He took his shoulders in both hands. "I promise this is going to help. Please Stiles." Stiles didn't respond. He didn't know why. It wasn't like he had a choice. One last glance at Peter and it was over. He nodded quickly. Stiles bit his lip as Peter's hands landed on his hips. He smoothed them upwards, pulling Stiles' shirt away as he did. Stiles lifted his arms, shivering slightly as the fabric fell away. "Lay down." Goosebumps rioted across his skin. Stiles moved to the cot anyways. He lay on his stomach, hands curling in the thin pillow.<p>

It was painful as Peter crossed to the sink and back. "On three," he whispered. Stiles closed his eyes. "One." Peter shoved the spikes in without warning. Fire ripped into his body on either side of his spine, spreading out. He'd been too surprised to let out a sound but tears pricked his eyes. Peter was hovering over him immediately, mouth at his ear. "I'm sorry Stiles," he breathed, hands alternating pressure on his shoulders. Stiles guessed it was a distraction tactic. "I thought it would be better. I'm sorry." Stiles let out a soft whine before he could stop it. The room was perfectly, painfully silent. He could hear Jackson groan from across the hall.  
>"I'm okay," he said, "I'll be okay," he amended quickly. Peter didn't move and neither did he. He didn't want to know how much it would hurt. The door across the hall opened and closed. Jackson paced the room, still groaning softly. There was some shuffling and a hiss of breath. When the door opened and closed again Stiles forced himself to push up. Peter moved with him, keeping space between Stiles' back and his chest. Stiles let out a groan of his own. "Damn," he muttered. "So the silver…weakens me?" He needed distraction.<br>"It weakens the wolf yes. We'll have to see how your body reacts to it."  
>"Not liking it so far," Stiles said, forcing a smile. "Can I have my shirt?" Peter handed it to him. Stiles stood gingerly and moved slowly. He pulled on his shirt in the hall and emerged just in time to see Jess slip Jackson a piece of paper.<br>"Maybe when all this is over you can give me a call," she suggested, a smile playing at her lips. Stiles rolled his eyes.  
>"Come on pretty boy. We got places to be."<p>

_A/N: Creating my own mythology again. I mean…it's obvious at this point but I just felt I should warn anyways. Whatever._

_Oh oh and I have some fluff planned next chapter. I'm excited. :D _

_I cannot be held responsible for this note. I'm on two hours of sleep. And I stayed up to post. Bam. Feel bad people. Leave me some lovely reviews. (Okay you don't really have to but I would appreciate it. And I'll try to actually reply to these ones.) At least think about reviewing?_

_Lol. I'll stop being desperate now and go to sleep. u.u_

_Hope you enjoyed. Thanks._


	10. IX: Resignation

The ride back was arguably less comfortable than the ride there. Stiles couldn't lean back and it was rather obvious that Jackson couldn't either. Eventually Stiles settled his elbows on his knees and leaned his chin into his hands.  
>"You gonna be in trouble for pulling a vanishing act on your parents?" Stiles questioned.<br>"I can handle it," Jackson said evasively, leaning on the window. "What about you?" Stiles grimaced. His father certainly wouldn't be happy about him skipping school. He'd probably try to ground him again. Not that that had ever gone so well in the past.  
>"Don't know."<br>"Well at least this mating frenzy is figured out so we can go to school tomorrow."  
>"Yay," Stiles muttered dryly. It was actually a relief, but school meant Scott.<br>"We'll stick close together," Jackson offered, as if reading his thoughts. Stiles smiled softly. Maybe he was worried about trying to return to normal life too.  
>"You and me hanging out…that'll send everyone into a tizzy."<br>"So?" Jackson demanded, a cocky smirk framing his lips. Stiles let out a quiet laugh.  
>"Just saying." Stiles could see Peter smiling from where he sat and it made him smile too.<br>"I'm glad you two are getting along." Whether or not it was a reference to before Stiles couldn't be sure.  
>"I think we've got it figured out," Jackson said, turning to Stiles enough to see him smirking.<br>"Good." Stiles flushed with pleasure. After a simple two minute conversation everything was working together again. A well oiled machine. And he'd made Peter happy. Jackson too. But more importantly Stiles did. His back hardly bothered him the rest of the ride.

Stiles climbed out slowly, Jackson moving his seat out of the way.  
>"You can probably park in the garage," he offered, "my dad hardly ever goes in there." Jackson nodded. Peter rounded the back of the car and dangled the keys.<br>"So?" Jackson questioned as he took them.  
>"You two stick close together. I've got to see about getting some of my affairs in order."<br>"Ooh a slumber party," Stiles slurred, offering a goofy smile. Peter's eyes crinkled as his lips curled in a patient expression.  
>"Jackson shouldn't be at home right now. Just in case. The leashes will help but there may still be some…issues. Keep him away from your father." Jackson and Stiles grimaced in sync.<br>"Will do."  
>"I'm not attracted to older men," Jackson cut in. Stiles stepped on his foot. Peter's expression didn't change in the slightest.<br>"I'm really not interested in your sexual preferences Jackson." Stiles' eyes widened and he couldn't help a slight snort.  
>"The feeling is mutual," Jackson said, teeth flashing.<br>"Glad that's cleared up," Stiles cut in, taking Jackson by the shoulders, "we gotta go, Jackson's going to teach me to chug raw eggs and exfoliate my skin."  
>"Play nice boys," Peter called after them.<br>"Yes sir," Jackson muttered, laughing as Stiles pulled him along somewhat desperately.

They stopped in the kitchen and raided the fridge before moving to Stiles' room. Stiles hadn't managed to find a comfortable position before his phone buzzed angrily on the nightstand. Part of him couldn't believe he'd left it. He answered before checking the screen, which was always a mistake.  
>"Where the hell are you?" his father demanded, voice bursting through the phone so hard Stiles had to yank it away from his face. He groaned, which luckily he didn't have to fake.<br>"I'm at home," he dropped down to his bed, "in bed."  
>"Are you dead?" Stiles sighed, trying to think quickly.<br>"No I just woke up puking half digested food. I didn't think to call I'm sorry." He forced himself to sound upset, as if he actually had a right to be.  
>"You'd better not be jerking me around Son."<br>"Well I didn't save any evidence," he replied petulantly, "if that's what you mean." A voice sounded in the background and Sheriff Stilinski sighed.  
>"We'll talk when I get home."<br>"Great." Stiles disconnected the call and dropped his phone to the bed beside him.  
>"Okay?" Jackson asked, rubbing at an eyebrow. Stiles lifted one shoulder.<br>"Tired." He kicked off his shoes and flopped onto his stomach, groaning as the movement spread through his back. He could hear Jackson's fingers sliding over the screen of his phone but didn't question it. He slid his arm under his pillow and shoved his face into it. After a few minutes Jackson dropped down next to him, sighing.  
>"Game's in three days. Coach wants to turn it into a road trip…leaving tomorrow."<br>"That sounds like a horribly idea," Stiles mumbled. Jackson was silent for a moment.  
>"I think I know what you mean," he said softly.<br>"M I still first line?"  
>"Guess we'll know by the end of the night." Stiles sighed. "Go to sleep. Dream about Peter."<br>"Just cause you said that maybe I will," Stiles said, sticking out his tongue.  
>"Alright but if I wake up with you grinding on me I'm going to kick your scrawny ass."<br>"I'm slender and svelte. Not scrawny," Stiles argued, cracking his eyes open. Jackson just smiled.  
>"I thought you were tired." Stiles closed his eyes again and snuggled back into the pillow.<br>"Maybe I am." A few moments passed and Jackson realized he was tired as well. He shifted onto his stomach and let his eyes slide closed. "Wouldn't be my fault if I did hump you," Stiles said. "Mating frenzy."  
>"It doesn't work on members of your own pack." Stiles sighed again.<br>"Yeah I guess not."

Stiles wasn't sure what time it was when he woke up. He was used to his father's cruiser pulling in though. He shook Jackson's arm frantically.  
>"The Porsche," he hissed.<br>"Yeah," Jackson said, rubbing his eye. "I put it in the garage while you were sleeping. Didn't know you kayaked," he added before closing his eyes again. He relaxed briefly, until he heard his father coming up the stairs. He kicked Jackson out of bed just in time. The jock's reflexes kicked in and he rolled to the wall, hardly making a sound. Stiles' bedroom door opened, light from the hall streaming in.  
>"Hey," his father murmured, crossing to the bed. Stiles sat up slowly, wincing.<br>"Hey." His voice was sleep rough and he didn't bother trying to correct it. His father felt his forehead for a moment, frowning.  
>"You're burning up."<br>"I'll be fine," Stiles replied. His father's hand dropped away and he crossed his arms before settling his hands on his hips.  
>"You uh…want some soup or something?"<br>"I'm just tired." Stiles shook his head slightly, running one hand over his hair.  
>"I'll check on you in the morning."<br>"Okay." His father smiled slightly for a short moment. "Good night Dad."  
>"Good night Stiles." Jackson popped up as the door closed, eyes narrowed.<br>"You could have been a bit gentler," he whispered.  
>"Yeah cause I want to explain why the captain of the lacrosse team is in my bed at-" he glanced to his alarm clock, "two in the morning."<br>"You would be so lucky," Jackson muttered, sliding back into bed.  
>"I hate to wound your ego but I wouldn't exactly jump into your pants Whittemore."<br>"Mutual Stilinski."  
>"Good," Stiles said, laying back down and putting a hand over Jackson's mouth briefly. "Now shut up so I can sleep."<p>

When Stiles woke again Peter was in bed next to him, sitting up and leaning against the wall. He flicked through a book, eyes scanning the pages quickly.  
>"What time is it?" Stiles croaked, desperately not wanting to move.<br>"Nearly noon," Peter answered, pausing and looking down to him. His forehead creased. "How are you feeling?" Stiles thought about it instead of answering immediately. The back of his throat was dry and burning.  
>"Not great," he finally muttered, tongue dragging painfully across his lips. Peter only looked more upset by the revelation. "Where's Jackson?" Stiles questioned, trying to distract him.<br>"He went to school. Something about a lacrosse trip he couldn't miss. He doesn't seem to be having so much trouble with it." Stiles grimaced.  
>"Of course not."<br>"He was in slightly better physical condition when he was turned," Peter said gently. Stiles pulled a face.  
>"I'm svelte damn it." Peter nearly looked amused then.<br>"I never said you weren't." Stiles shifted, trying to push himself up and crying out as his spine curved. "Okay," he huffed out, "not a good idea."  
>"No," Peter said tightly, knuckles white on the edge of the book. There was a tense silence. "Did you need something?"<br>"My throat hurts," Stiles explained, embarrassed. Peter set the book on the mattress and left the room without another word. He came back quickly with three different glasses and a can of Red Bull balanced on a plate.  
>"I wasn't sure what you wanted," he explained, seeming almost…embarrassed. In the glasses there was water, milk, and a dark soda, Stiles guessed Dr. Pepper.<br>"Milk," he said, reaching out his hand. Peter handed it to him, sitting on the edge of the bed gently. Stiles drained the glass and left it on the mattress. "This is temporary right?"  
>"Most likely."<br>"My dad?"  
>"Jackson said you were passed out cold when he came in. He couldn't wake you. I told Jackson to let you sleep it off when he called."<br>"Well I certainly hope Jackson's day is going better."

_A/N: NOT MAJOR FORSHADOWING. NOT AT ALLLL.. *de caps lock*_

_Buckle in kids. It's gonna be a bumpy ride for Jacks. _

_Still planning on fluff. After the angst. I think. Maybe fluff first. Hmm. Maybe I'll flip a coin or something._

_Anyways. I'm also still planning on replying. I know I say it all the time. But I really am. Once I'm not the pathetic lump of existence I currently am. Is it sad that I write when I'm sick? _

_I really need to stop writing these long winded notes. I'll stop now._

_Thanks. *hugs and digital cookies*_


	11. X: Misdirection

Jackson left Stiles' house earlier than strictly necessary. Even though some of his instincts were dead set against it, he drove to Danny's house. It was just in time for his best friend to emerge. He acted like he didn't even see Jackson's car, which Jackson knew was impossible. He parked behind Danny quickly, jumping out. His heart beat against his chest and his palms began to sweat.  
>"Danny wait, please." Danny grimaced, gripping the strap of his duffel bag.<br>"What do you want Jackson?" he demanded, shoulders rippling with tension.  
>"I wanted to talk to you Danny come on…"<br>"Come on what?" Danny snapped, "I only texted you because you had to know." Jackson stopped at the front of the Porsche, not daring to get any closer to Danny.  
>"What do you want me to do? Tell me what to do and I'll do it. Danny…I need you."<br>"No you just need somebody." That stung. Jackson pressed on anyways.  
>"I have somebody. I don't need <em>somebody <em>Dan."  
>"I can't be around you right now," Danny murmured, his voice catching. He looked around them before looking down. His face contorted. "Ben ended things," he whispered. Jackson stepped closer, he knew he shouldn't. He also knew Danny needed him. He hugged him tightly.<br>"Danny I'm sorry. I can't even say how much. Please don't hate me. I couldn't stand it if you hated me."  
>"I have every right," Danny said, words muffled in Jackson's shirt.<br>"I know," Jackson agreed, sharply relieved that his body wasn't having any unwanted reactions to what was happening, "I'm a bastard and I know."  
>"I'm not going to disagree with you this time."<p>

Danny pushed him away gently, still looking at his feet.  
>"Maybe I could explain things to him?" Jackson questioned. "I could say I was on drugs or something."<br>"Were you on drugs?" Danny demanded, looking up to him.  
>"I…" Jackson paused, shoving his hands in his pockets as he debated how to answer that. "I can't really explain what happened Danny. Not yet." Danny nodded slowly.<br>"Alright. Well how about you let me know when you're ready to explain?"  
>"Yeah," Jackson let out, deflating, "okay."<br>"Good luck at the game," Danny offered, because that's just the kind of guy he was. Jackson forced a small smile.  
>"You too." Danny nodded one last time before getting into his car. Jackson sighed and kicked at an errant pebble before doing the same. Fat ran drops began slapping against the glass as he backed out.<p>

…

Stiles shivered as thunder rumbled in the distance.  
>"Is it supposed to be a bad storm?"<br>"I'm not sure. Smells like it." Stiles grimaced and shifted closer to Peter.  
>"I don't like storms," he admitted very quietly. Peter didn't ask any questions. He removed the plate of drinks and the book before pulling the cover up around Stiles' shoulders.<br>"It's alright," he murmured. Stiles didn't say anything because for the most part he disagreed with the statement. He was in bed with a man he may or may not, who was he kidding, be attracted to with silver spikes digging into his spine and what was probably going to be the thunder storm of the century was making its way to them as he thought about it. All in all not a fantastic start to the day. At least he got to stay home… He sighed, body relaxing slightly when Peter ran two fingertips down the side of his face.  
>"What's happening to us?" he whispered. Peter frowned.<br>"Stiles you need to rest."  
>"I've been in bed for like…eighteen hours," he protested, "I am resting."<br>"Stiles," Peter repeated, tone entirely disapproving.  
>"Something <em>is <em>going on," he argued childishly.  
>"Let me look at your back," Peter cut him off, hands tugging at the hem of Stiles' shirt. That shut Stiles up. He gasped at the alternating pleasure and pain of Peter's hands on him. "I have bad news for you Stiles." He closed his eyes, exhaling on a hiss.<br>"And that is?"  
>"We're going to have to take this out."<p>

Stiles groaned. "We can try putting it back in but your body is rejecting it."  
>"Damn you svelte body, damn you," he muttered, ducking his head into his arms.<br>"That's not the worst of it," Peter said after another moment, his hands gently kneading at the small of Stiles' back.  
>"Oh?" Stiles wasn't able to form any other words.<br>"We'd have to try and put it back in." His mouth ran try as his skin tingled uncomfortably.  
>"Oh…<em>joy<em>." Peter was quiet for a long moment.  
>"You aren't particularly attached to this shirt, are you?"<br>"Um…I don't think so." Stiles wasn't even sure what shirt he was wearing. In another moment he wasn't wearing one at all. Peter ripped the back right off.  
>"Okay Stiles, fast or slow?" He shivered at the question.<br>"Uhh," why was he trying to stall? _Why_? "Fast." Like a band-aid. Right?  
>"Alright," Peter agreed quietly. He laid one hand over Stiles' mouth, the other brushing his neck. Stiles wondered why Peter was covering his mouth before Peter ripped the metal from his skin.<p>

…

Jackson parked on the edge of the parking lot. He really didn't feel like dealing with his teammates. He was still early. Not to mention, he'd have to be on the bus with them for long enough. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his house. It hit the answering machine unsurprisingly.  
>"Hey it's me. I was with Stiles last night…working on a project. And I'll be with the lacrosse team. So…I'll see you guys in a couple of days." There. Now his parents wouldn't send Stiles' father looking for him. Good to know. He dropped his phone to the cup holder and gently tried to stretch out his back. Yeah it still burned a bit. He winced and wondered how Stiles was doing. Peter was with him. Jackson had to smile before shaking his head. He didn't know why the whole thing seemed right to him. It was almost…cute in a way. Sure it made him the third wheel but he could deal with that for now. In fact maybe if they hooked up Peter would be more inclined to let Danny in on their secret. Sounded pretty good to him. If he could explain it to Danny then he and Danny would be fine. Then Jackson could worry about this whole mating frenzy war thing. Come to think of it…shouldn't that be happening right about now? The thought had the hairs on the back of his neck standing straight. He got out of the car and looked around. Scott was nowhere to be seen which at this point seemed odd. A few guys were beginning to gather by the bus. Jackson could see them clearly even though he was too far for them to actually see him.<br>"_Jackson_…" His eyes swung to the trees. Maybe he was hearing things. He glanced back to the bus. "_Jackson_…" Closer now. He shuddered. For the first time in a while Jackson was genuinely scared. He turned back to the car, reaching for the handle, intent on his phone or escape. Both sounded good. Derek growled from the other side of his Porsche, fangs extended, eyes bright blue. Jackson's throat closed and he shoved off the car, running.

…

Stiles could still hear himself screaming in his ears. It was so, so much worse coming back out. Tears were in his eyes and he buried his head in his pillow.  
>"I'll be right back," Peter whispered, one hand on his shoulder. Stiles didn't bother trying to reply. Nothing he would have said could have been worth it. When someone climbed through the window he assumed it was Jackson, called back by the immense amount of pain he'd just gone through. He should have known Jackson couldn't have gotten back that fast.<br>"Stiles?" Scott questioned, "What happened?" Stiles got up, pushing himself into a crouch, as much as it fucking hurt.  
>"Scott!" he hissed, eyebrows shooting up. "You have to get out of here!" Scott looked wounded. Stiles felt horrible for a split second but this was just bad. Really, really bad.<br>"No, man, look I'm tired of fighting. You're my best friend and mmf-" Stiles had launched himself off the bed and smothered Scott's lips with his own. All kinds of hot, astounding sensations were swelling in his veins. Scott didn't want to fight. Scott was his best friend. And he'd _missed _Scott. He licked and nipped at Scott's mouth, moans slipping out as he did. The pain in his back was fading. Everything was fading. Scott was still entirely present, his hands on Stiles' arms then chest. "Stiles-" he managed, pushing him slightly, "what-" another push, "doing?"  
>"<em>God<em>," Stiles breathed, taking hold of either side of Scott's face, "shut up will you?" He was pulling Scott close again when a growl so loud it shook the room stopped him. Entire body shooting ramrod straight, Stiles looked over his shoulder into Peter's glowing eyes.

Peter was across the room in a blur of motion. He yanked Scott out of Stiles' grasp easily and threw him headlong out the window. He turned back on Stiles then, eyes still red as he growled deep in his chest. Stiles shivered and stumbled backwards, landing on the bed. He wasn't sure what to do. Peter stepped closer, growls gradually decreasing in volume. Still Stiles couldn't help but scoot backwards.  
>"P-Peter…? Are uh, are you in there?"<br>"I am mentally aware," he said, smiling dangerously, "yes."  
>"I-I um, I am ah, s-sorry. I didn't mean t-to k-kiss him." His body heated at the memory and Peter was suddenly in bed with him, hands and knees caging Stiles' body in.<br>"You kissed him?" Stiles whimpered at the back of his throat.  
>"Y-Yes," he admitted, knowing a lie could be devastating at this point. Peter growled again.<br>"You can't go around kissing people when I take your collar off," Peter breathed. Stiles nodded quickly, shivering.  
>"We can put it back on," he said in an effort at appeasing him.<br>"Not yet," Peter's eyes dragged over Stiles' face. "Kiss me Stiles," he said, eyes moving to his lips before swiveling back up to his eyes. Stiles' mind raced.  
>"I don't want to," he breathed, lips trembling. "Not like this."<br>"Like what?" Peter snapped, eyes pulsing brighter.  
>"When you're all wolfed out and jealous and not thinking right," Stiles clarified. Peter glanced down, frowning before sighing. It was aching watching Peter slowly calm down.<br>"I apologize Stiles." Stiles touched his neck when he began to pull back.  
>"Can I kiss you now?" he asked quietly.<br>"I'm afraid that wouldn't be a good idea."

_A/N: I know. I'm cruel. To make up for it I leave you with a short note._

_pleasedon'tkillme_

_Thanks _


	12. XI: Domination

_WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DUB CON BORDERING ON NON CON. IT IS MOST DEFINITELY M. IT IS ALSO COMPLETELY UNECESSARY TO READ THIS CHAPTER. EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW IS COVERED IN THE NEXT ONE. _

Jackson tried to remember what had happened. He remembered getting grabbed. He remembered a growl in his ear. _Derek_. The last thing he remembered was the leash being torn from his neck. He woke naked, sitting against a wall. Derek paced in front of him like a caged animal. Jackson tried to move and cried out, looking up to see both wrists speared on a scrap of metal sticking from the cratered concrete.  
>"What do you want?" he questioned weakly, desperation beginning to sink in. Derek's answering smile was vicious.<br>"I need protection. We're going to mate." Jackson's jaw dropped open at that. His dick gave a little jerk in his lap, already liking the idea.  
>"That is so not happening," Jackson said, a definite note ringing in his tone. There was no fucking way. Derek's smile didn't diminish in the slightest. His gaze dropped lower and lower until it lingered on Jackson's crotch. Jackson flushed.<br>"The animal in you disagrees." He stepped closer, crouching next to Jackson. "And you don't have a choice." Jackson's mind raced. Both Stiles and Peter thought he was with the lacrosse team. So did his parents. They wouldn't know he was missing for three days. At least. His heart stuttered in his chest. "I know exactly what you're thinking about," Derek taunted, "and you're right. No one knows you're here. Just you…and me…and this dilemma." Jackson reached for a bravery he didn't feel.  
>"No." He couldn't mate with the enemy. Every instinct in him screamed against it. Derek leaned in, licking a long line up his throat.<br>"Yes." Jackson shuddered, pain radiating down his arms. Blood headed south and for a moment Jackson couldn't breathe. A small moan escaped.  
>"Let me go," he tried breathing shallowly. Derek shook his head back and forth.<br>"Just do it," Derek breathed, raw heat emanating from his body. Jackson whimpered.  
>"N-no," he barely managed the word. He wanted to tug on his wrists again but he knew it was useless. He'd already lost so much blood. It was thick in his hair, sticky on his skin. His entire body was drawn tight, the pain was unbearable.<p>

Derek sat on his thighs, fingertips trailing over Jackson's chest. He licked them clean, growling at the salt of Jackson's sweat.  
>"Do it," he repeated, fingers stroking over Jackson's cock, lingering at the bulge near the base. "Do it and I'll let you come. I'll let you come for days." Jackson's eyes squeezed closed, more sweat beading on his forehead.<br>"Why," he panted shallowly, "why are you doing this to me?"  
>"Simple," Derek said, breathing in his ear, "I need leverage."<br>"I don't want this." Derek smirked.  
>"That would be obvious by the way you're still holding out. Which would be admirable by the way, if I couldn't go like this for days." Jackson's face contorted as the first tears slipped out.<br>"Please," he begged, "please just let me go." In response Derek grazed his teeth along Jackson's throat.  
>"Mm. No." Jackson's throat contracted and worked as he tried to howl. Nothing came out. "This can go so much easier," Derek soothed. "I fuck you, we bite each other, done and done."<br>"No," Jackson whined. "I don't want to be your mate. I won't do this."  
>"Oh Jackson. You don't say no to me." Derek stood and stopped just in front of Jackson's face. He opened his jeans and shoved them out of the way. His fingertips grazed Jackson's lips almost kindly before yanking his jaw open. "You bite me I'll kill you," Derek warned before shoving his cock past Jackson's lips. Jackson wriggled desperately, pulling at his wrists and screaming, the sound vibrating around Derek's flesh. He groaned softly. Spit was leaking past Jackson's lips and he pulled back, giving a brief reprieve.<br>"Okay," Jackson cried, "okay. I'll do it. Just stop. Please stop."  
>"Good choice Jacks." Derek pulled both of Jackson's wrists off the exposed metal to give them a chance to heal. Jackson gave another soft cry, tears sliding down his cheeks. Derek walked backwards and kicked off his shoes before shedding his jeans. He lifted Jackson easily, kissing his mouth in a symbol of pure ownership. He dropped him onto the table, lining up immediately. He took Jackson's neck in his right hand, moving his left to Jackson's straining erection, the flesh an angry red.<p>

Jackson whimpered again, bucking forward, his eyes closed. "Gonna be so good," Derek muttered, "you're gonna do exactly what I say." Jackson didn't respond. He was beyond speech. His teeth dug into his lip, drawing blood easily, as Derek shoved himself inside. He didn't make a noise at the pain, still crying silently. Derek groaned and stopped before he made it. Jackson was too tight. "Fucking relax," Derek commanded. Jackson managed a watery glare, flexing his fingers as his wrists finally sealed back up.  
>"Hate you," he grunted.<br>"I don't give a fuck. Take the rest of my dick or I'll make this even worse for you."  
>"Fucking bigger," Jackson complained. "I can't…" Suddenly Derek's thumbs were on him, rubbing and pulling the ring of muscle. He growled deep in his chest, holding Jackson open and pushing the rest of the way in. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking…bastard," Jackson chanted, jaw clenched. Derek didn't listen, grinding against him. Jackson reached for his own erection, absolutely desperate for release. More desperate than he'd ever been for anything in his entire life. More desperate than he was for oxygen. If he could just come before dying from lack of oxygen he thought that would be okay. He cried out again when Derek smacked his hand away.<br>"You absolutely do not come before me," Derek said, eyes burning blue straight through Jackson's.  
>"You're killing me," Jackson returned. He was barely exaggerating.<br>"Makes my life easier then," Derek returned, smile predatory. Jackson shoved at him uselessly. Derek wasn't coming out until he returned to normal size. They both knew it. He pulled himself closer, wincing. One hand wound into Derek's hair and he pulled himself closer.  
>"I can't wait for my alpha to tear you apart," he growled. Derek yanked his hand away before backhanding him so hard Jackson fell back seeing stars and tasting blood. Still attached Derek came with him. He landed hot on top of him, waiting a short moment before jerking his hips again.<p>

Jackson closed his eyes again and gritted his teeth. He just had to wait it out. He clenched the lower half of his body experimentally, tempted to smile when Derek groaned. He shouldn't be glad he was pleasing Derek. He should be trying to take his head off. But Derek was stronger. He had Jackson in an incredibly compromising position. The most compromising position possible. All Jackson could do was try to make it end. He squeezed again, tugging Derek's head down to his and kissing him hard. Derek gave a surprised groan, his hands landing on Jackson's hips hard enough to bruise. Jackson moaned against Derek's lips. God he needed him to finish. He needed it. "What do you need?" he groaned, panting for air. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it…anything. Fuck. Derek please."  
>"Being a good bitch now?" Jackson groaned noncommittally, wanting to rip his head off again. "Say it," Derek growled, grabbing Jackson's face suddenly. "Tell me what a good bitch you are Jacks." Jackson felt himself flush, hands clenching.<br>"No," Jackson grunted. Derek reached between them, grabbing the bundle of flesh at the base of his cock. He squeezed mercilessly. Jackson arched off the table in sheer panic and pain.  
>"I didn't catch that," he spat. Jackson's mouth fell open as gracelessly as possible. He thought his eyes would shoot right out of his head. Or his entire body would explode.<br>"Stop," he wheezed, "stop."  
>"Say it," Derek repeated, leaning even closer. Jackson lasted another two seconds.<br>"I'm good," he managed, throat collapsing, "I'm a good bitch," he finished, shuddering when Derek released him so he could speak again. He laid back against the table, tears still sliding down his cheeks.

Derek leaned over him, inhaling deeply along his throat, still thrusting shallowly inside of him. He bit through the skin, groaning again. Jackson moaned. Derek lifted his head, mouth stained red.  
>"Do it," he breathed, offering his neck. Jackson felt his teeth lengthening at the suggestion alone. He knew he had to. He knew he didn't have a choice. He held off one more second, closing his eyes, and bit into Derek's neck. Derek's blood slipped into his mouth, raw and earthy at the same time. Jackson let it slide over his tongue, losing all focus. He felt Derek explode inside him and cringed. He'd never felt anything like it. His mouth fell away from Derek and he let lose a howl, only then realizing Derek was already howling. Derek's eyes faded from blue to hazel and he blinked slowly. Jackson was fairly sure he started crying again as Derek pulled out, stretching him again.<br>"Please," he whispered, singeing need still tearing through his body. "Please Derek."  
>"On your knees," Derek said, stepping back.<br>"What?" Jackson croaked. Derek took hold of an ankle and yanked him off the table.  
>"On your knees. I won't say it again." Jackson struggled to his knees, breath hissing out as his painful erection swung against his thighs. Derek stepped close again. "Clean me off." Jackson stared up at him in disbelief.<br>"Derek please…"  
>"We both know I can make you," Derek warned coldly. Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose and wiped his eyes before dropping his hand. This wasn't his life. This couldn't fucking be his life.<p>

He opened his mouth tentatively, slipping his tongue out before leaning forward. The white smears were thick and salty. Jackson nearly gagged. Derek's hand on his chin pulled him up, stopping him easily. "You're my mate. Take care of me." Jackson wondered if that was supposed to swing both ways. He doubted it. The words took effect and warmth swept through him. He moved Derek's hand and went back to work, half a smile at his lips. He wasn't sure what exactly Derek had done to him. It wasn't so bad anymore. He didn't stop lapping at the skin and sucking until Derek tasted clean. Derek pulled him up by the wrist, eyes unreadable. "Good," he allowed, one hand finally encircling Jackson's cock. Jackson swayed against him as his knees threatened to give out.  
>"I'm just gonna get you messy again," he mumbled, eyelids heavy. Why was he thinking about that? Derek cut off his protest with his mouth, stroking quickly. His fingers played over the knot expertly, pinching and rolling. Jackson was already so close. All he needed was one last- It <em>finally<em> hit. His entire chest constricted before collapsing. Pleasure rolled through him in thick heavy waves, blindingly hot and sweet. Jackson was falling and everything faded out. He woke up sprawled on the ground. Derek was by the wall, fastening his belt. He spared Jackson a glance as he sat up.  
>"Get home," Derek said simply.<br>"My clothes," Jackson whispered haltingly, eyes flickering to the shredded masses of fabric. Derek smiled darkly.  
>"Run fast."<p> 


	13. XII: Revelation

Derek left him alone and Jackson gathered his knees to his chest, shaking. His body was a bit sore but he was sure it would heal. There were other problems at hand. The memories would only be part of it. Jackson felt like his chest was splitting open. He'd mated with the enemy. His loyalty to his pack was splintering painfully inside of him. But he hadn't wanted to. A small noise slipped out. A whine. He had to get out of here. Wherever here was. Jackson crawled to his shredded jeans and slid his keys from the pocket with shaking hands. He clutched them and stood. His knees were weak and there was still a present ache in the entire lower half of him. Jackson tried his best to ignore it as he made his way down the corridor. It was dark and dank, stone walls. All he could smell was Derek and mildew. _Derek_. God he didn't want to think about that. He stumbled over a crack, distracted by trying to distract himself. Jackson could have caught himself, if he'd wanted to expend the effort. But he was tired. So his knees cracked to the ground. Jackson let himself have a moment just to breathe. He couldn't lose the nerves he was barely holding onto. Not yet. He just had to get to his pack. That's what he had to do. Peter would know what to do. There had to be something. He forced himself back up.

…

"Wait," Stiles said, grabbing Peter's shoulder with his other hand. "You can't just…you can't pretend nothing is happening."  
>"Stiles," Peter responded carefully, "you have a lot going on right now. I'm sure you're very confused."<br>"We're in my bed, you're on top of me, and you went nuts, including throwing my best friend out the window." Peter was silent for several moments.  
>"He's not your best friend right now, right now he's the enemy."<br>"You were jealous," Stiles protested feebly, hands loosening.  
>"I was…upset." Stiles let his hands drop down. He frowned as he felt disappointment curl in his stomach. Of course Peter didn't actually want him. He was just being stupid, like usual. His eyes began to water. Of course Peter would rather Stiles be with him than be with Scott. It was a decision that made sense.<br>"Oh," he let out slowly, looking down so he didn't have to meet Peter's eyes. "Okay," he added, wishing Peter would just get off before his heart completely shattered. He was upset and disappointed and it really did feel like his heart was breaking.  
>"Stiles don't,"<br>"Don't what?" Stiles demanded, voice cracking. "I'm fine!" He flopped back to the mattress and crossed his arms over his bare chest. Stiles turned his head to the right and stared at his open closet. He sniffled and rubbed at his nose briefly.  
>"Stiles," Peter tried again, leaning closer before hovering over him.<br>"What?" Stiles let out, still examining his closet.  
>"It's not that I don't want you," Peter said very quietly.<br>"You don't have to try and make me feel better," Stiles huffed, eyes burning with the effort to stop the tears.  
>"Yes I do."<p>

Peter touched his jaw gently, turning Stiles back to him. "It's not that I don't want you Stiles," he repeated, fingertips spreading over Stiles' skin. "I do…endlessly. But you don't understand. Things are dangerous right now." He paused, eyes closing and jaw tensing for a moment. "I _cannot _lose you." Stiles flushed with burning heat. It wasn't entirely unpleasant.  
>"You'd better not just be saying this," Stiles said after a long moment.<br>"I shouldn't be telling you this at all," Peter whispered, "but I can't stand for you to be in pain if you don't have to be." Stiles covered Peter's hand with his.  
>"You shouldn't be telling me what?"<br>"Stiles…you're my mate." Stiles mouth ran dry and he blinked slowly.  
>"What does that mean?"<br>"It means what it sounds like," Peter breathed, leaning even closer. The words ghosted over Stiles' neck. "You're meant for me. Just like I'm meant for you." He pressed a kiss to Stiles' throat, licking it softly. Stiles groaned and arched up, sliding along Peter's body deliciously.  
>"Peter please," he whispered, hearing his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Peter licked up his neck, nipping at his jaw teasingly before finally catching his lips. One arm wrapped around Peter's neck, Stiles hand clenched in the front of Peter's shirt. Peter held them both up with one arm, exploring Stiles' mouth when his lips parted. With the bit of his brain that could still function Stiles began planning. The hand in Peter's shirt released and slid to the side, moving down Peter's arm. He tugged at Peter's elbow, moaning softly. Peter eventually gave in and let them both drop to the mattress. Gaining courage with Peter's body pressed hard against his Stiles let his tongue tangle with Peter's, moaning again. The most exquisite spiraling heat was filling his chest and stomach. Shallow breaths panted out. His hips began swiveling. They couldn't move much but he had to get some friction. Peter groaned deeply. The sound rang in Stiles' ears and he reveled in it.<p>

He clung to Peter and rocked upwards, still kissing him more than he was breathing. Peter lifted his hips away, smiling down at Stiles as he went up to one arm again. Stiles whined and went still, wondering what he was doing. Peter's hand ghosted down his chest and stopped at the snap of his jeans. Stiles stopped breathing.  
>"I-ah," Stiles gasped, eyes glued to Peter's hand.<br>"Yes?" Peter whispered, slipping open the button and inching down the zipper.  
>"Nnnn." Stiles couldn't even form a thought, shaking his head back and forth. Stiles gasped again as Peter pushed his jeans out of the way, fingers running over his clothed erection.<br>"Shouldn't be doing this," Peter breathed, hand dipping into Stiles' boxer briefs, "it's wrong. And yet…" He stroked upwards. Stiles' hips bucked as his spine curved and his toes curled.  
>"Oh my <em>God<em>," he hissed.  
>"It feels right," Peter added, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw.<br>"Please Peter…fucking please!" Peter's hand moved back down. He squeezed the knot gently.  
>"Not too sensitive is it?" Peter questioned. Stiles' eyes rolled into the back of his head.<br>"N-no…" Peter gave another squeeze before stroking upwards again. Stiles howled, shoving his head back into the mattress. He glanced his nails extending on Peter's shoulders, his teeth followed suit. Everything brightened and the room seemed to pulse around them. Peter smiled devilishly, eyes glowing red.  
>"Love seeing you like this," he said, kissing Stiles' lips. Stiles couldn't manage a response. He was winding tighter and tighter but loving every single second. He loved every brush of skin. Every beat of Peter's heart. If he could just live in this moment… He wound one leg around Peter's, trying to haul him closer. He needed him closer. Peter sucked Stiles' bottom lip into his mouth and rolled his hips slightly. Stiles' moan fractured in his chest and he tried to meet Peter's hands and hips at the same time. It was impossible and the dual sensation was driving him insane. He could feel release teasing at his senses. His body locked down further, preparing. Peter's hand stroked down the same time his hips rolled up, catching Stiles between. That was all it took. The tension shattered in heavy waves and Stiles couldn't even manage to keep his eyes open, or control the half formed gibberish falling out of his mouth.<p>

It was several moments before he was aware that Peter had moved. He was off the bed, kneeling between Stiles' legs. Stiles heaved a shallow, broken gasp as Peter cleaned him off with careful strokes of his tongue. He finished above Stiles' belly button, the muscles quivering under his, before helping Stiles dress again. Once his jeans were closed Stiles let his arms drop back to the bed and laid there.  
>"That was so much better than-" he cut off, brain finally catching up to his mouth.<br>"What?" Peter asked, lying on his side next to Stiles, propping his head on his hand. Stiles thought he looked way too put together for a guy that had just given him a hand job. That was Peter he supposed.  
>"How long have you known?" Stiles questioned.<br>"About us?" God but he was clever. Stiles nodded silently, turning to look at Peter.  
>"It was a passing thought the first time I saw you." Peter smoothed the fingertips of his free hand over Stiles' cheek. Almost as if he was trying to further convince him through touch. "So on a whim I spared you." Stiles' heartbeat picked up and he gave a slight shiver. "When even in my obsession addled brain I wanted to see you again…I knew."<br>"The field," Stiles said shakily.  
>"Yes. She stank of you." It was nearly an apology.<br>"The parking garage." Peter smiled slightly.  
>"Of course."<p>

…

Jackson grabbed his workout shorts and tank top from the trunk, jumping into them. He didn't bother searching out shoes. Knees still weak he rounded the car and got in. He took several deep breaths before picking up his phone. He dialed his house. His heart stopped when his mother actually picked up.  
>"Hello?"<br>"Mom?" he questioned shakily, free arm curling around his torso as it threatened to collapse.  
>"Jackson? Is that you?"<br>"Yeah Mom. I need to talk to you, please."  
>"Okay honey I've got a minute. What's wrong?" He let out a choked sob.<br>"I was attacked…and he did things to me and made me do things and God Mom I can't breathe or think and it really _hurt _and I'm scared and I don't know what to do. I feel so…lost." Tears were jerkily making their way down his face and his arm moved from his torso and tore through his hair. He could still smell Derek on him.  
>"What? Honey you're breaking up. I didn't get any of that." Jackson's head slammed into the steering wheel and he tried desperately to catch his breath.<br>"Mom…" he managed, breath stopping again.  
>"I really have to go Jackson. I'll see you in a few days." The phone clicked and he crushed his cell phone in his hand. Leaning on the steering wheel he inhaled as deeply as possible before holding it. He just had to get to his pack. Everything would be okay.<p>

The gas pedal didn't leave the floor as he drove. He'd finally managed to stop crying but Jackson could still feel himself on the edge. On the edge of what…he wasn't sure. He made it to Stiles' house without crashing his Porsche, which was a small miracle he was sure. He scaled the wall easily, slipping inside the conspicuously open window. Peter had him by the throat before his feet touched the rug and the next thing Jackson knew he was being pressed into Stiles' desk, Peter snarling at him. Stiles was there in the next few moments which was good because Jackson couldn't breathe.  
>"Submit," Peter growled, "<em>now<em>." Jackson nodded frantically, as much as he could with Peter's hand under his jaw. He wheezed painfully when Peter pressed harder.  
>"What's happening?" Stiles demanded, eyebrows shooting up and down wildly as he tried to figure it out.<br>"Submit!" Peter repeated. Stiles tugged at his arm, uselessly. Jackson could feel the tension of the decision inside of him. Pack or mate. Pack or mate. Mate or pack. Derek or Peter. The one who made him or the one who owned him.  
>"Yes," he hissed, body going limp. Peter dropped him and stepped back, running a hand over his hair. He inhaled deeply as Stiles glanced between them.<br>"Seriously, what the…fuck?" Stiles questioned. Jackson slid off the desk and to his knees, forehead touching the carpet as he sagged in relief.  
>"Thank you," he rasped. The chaos was diminished greatly now that Peter had forced his loyalty. He could breathe again.<br>"What happened?" Peter questioned. "Why did you mate with my nephew?"

_A/N: So I think this is my last double update… I mean…maybe. They're hard to do! _

_Anyways. Hope the Halinski made up for the angsty Jerek. The angst with Jerek isn't nearly done but it's also taking a back seat. So yeah. _

_Where this is headed next nobody knows…_

_Thanks._


	14. XIII: Reaction

Stiles looked from Jackson to Peter and back so quickly he thought his head would topple from his shoulders. Jackson struggled to his feet and looked like he was trying to find the words to say so Stiles remained silent and crossed to his bed, sitting down. Jackson backed up to the desk, sitting on it heavily.  
>"He chased me through the woods," he offered hoarsely, "took off my leash and knocked me out." Peter sighed and half turned away, one hand covering his eyes. "I d-didn't want to!" Jackson exclaimed, expression desperate. "N-no one would have k-known I was gone for days…he wouldn't have stopped!" He was crying, head dropping as tears slid down. "He was stronger than me. I couldn't stop him." He buried his head in his hands. Stiles jumped up and crossed to him. He yanked Jackson into a tight hug, unable to do anything else. Jackson broke completely then, his entire frame curled and shaking in Stiles' arms.<br>"It's okay," he whispered, "it's going to be okay."  
>"I'm sorry I attacked you," Peter offered sadly. "There was no other option. You're now bonded to him, deeply, if I didn't reaffirm my control immediately it only would have gotten worse." Jackson didn't answer. Stiles frowned, for the first time feeling a slight revulsion washing through him. He glanced to Peter.<br>"He mated with the enemy," Peter said by way of explanation, shaking his head. Stiles held him tighter, tucking his face into Jackson's shoulder.  
>"You didn't have a choice," Stiles told him gently. "And even if you did…we're your pack. We're never leaving you."<br>"N-Never?"  
>"Never."<br>"We'll protect you," Peter murmured, drawing closer, "we'll all fight him together."  
>"I love you," Jackson managed thickly. He took hold of Peter's wrist as he hugged Stiles. "I love you both."<p>

Jackson slowly calmed himself down and Stiles eventually released him.  
>"How bout a nice hot shower?" Stiles suggested, rubbing his arms. Jackson nodded.<br>"Sounds pretty good." Stiles walked with him to the bathroom, Jackson still sniffling weakly.  
>"I'll bring you some towels, and Peter and I are right down the hall. You have nothing to be afraid of."<br>"Do you think he's angry with me?" Jackson whispered, catching Stiles' elbow.  
>"No," Stiles said. "He's angry, but not with you."<br>"All this time I've been looking for somewhere to belong," Jackson admitted on another whisper, "and now that I have it…I don't think I can lose it."  
>"You're not going to lose us. We're not letting you go." Jackson smiled heartbreakingly.<br>"Yeah okay," he muttered. "Do you have something to eat?" his hand hovered over his abs, "I'm like…starving."  
>"Pizza?" Jackson nodded. "Okay," Stiles murmured. "Shower's in there. I'll bring you some towels and hopefully the pizza will be here when you get out."<br>"Thank you Stiles." Jackson nodded again, swiping at his eyes before ducking into the bathroom. Stiles went to the end of the hall and grabbed towels before carrying them into the bathroom and setting them on the sink. He left the swirling steam and went back to his room.  
>"Is he alright?" Peter asked. Stiles half shrugged.<br>"He thinks you're angry with him. He's worried he's going to lose us."  
>"I want to kill Derek for this." Stiles nodded in agreement. "On a level I can almost understand it…I wanted revenge enough to kill my own blood. But I don't think he understands what he's done. Or he does. Fuck. I don't know." Stiles eyes widened. He wasn't used to Peter swearing. That was certainly a curveball. "If he wanted to worm his way into our pack, past our defenses, he's done that. But it's so much more." He paced to the window and back, running a hand through his hair again. "Mating is serious. There's a reason it requires both members to bite."<br>"How bad is it?" Stiles asked quietly.  
>"It can't be undone. They're bonded for life."<br>"Shit," Stiles exhaled.

Jackson looked better after his shower and he and Stiles took the bed, pizzas between them, while Peter scooted over the computer chair. "I got one cheese and one with everything. I figured we could all just pick and choose what we want."  
>"Well it smells amazing," Jackson supplied, opening the top box.<br>"Good idea Stiles." Stiles flushed. He nearly expected a joke from Jackson, frowning when the other boy remained silent. They ate in a reasonably comfortable silence.  
>"So what are we going to do?" Stiles questioned when only half a pizza remained. No one spoke.<br>"We need to try and get to Scott. If we can sway him to our side Derek will be left defenseless," he glanced to Jackson, "mostly defenseless."  
>"Might not be too bad," Stiles said. "He told me he didn't want to fight anymore. He's never been particularly violent anyways."<br>"He's with the lacrosse team," Jackson added, picking at the comforter on Stiles' bed. "And Derek," he paused, eyes closing, "will probably be trying to get to him too."  
>"You think he'll threaten Scott?" Stiles questioned, looking to Peter.<br>"I think at this point Derek will be willing to do anything. He's lost the only family he had left. The way he sees it he's got nothing to lose."  
>"He's volatile," Stiles supplied.<br>"Derek has always acted first and thought later." Peter sighed. "Scott might be in danger."

They debated what to do. Protecting Scott was definitely a priority but bringing Jackson was a bad idea. They couldn't leave him alone either. Peter going alone after Scott wasn't a great idea of course.  
>"Okay," Jackson cut in, "I'll just go with you. We don't need to freak out. It's not a huge deal. I'll have you two with me. I'll be alright." Stiles frowned but looked to Peter. He was the alpha. The decision was his.<br>"You keep back," Peter said. "Stiles and I will deal with Derek."  
>"Okay," Jackson agreed. "Let's go."<br>"Yeah," Stiles agreed slowly, hands falling to his hips. "Let's go attack the psychopathic werewolf…why does that sound familiar?"  
>"At least I'm on your side this time," Peter said with a tense smile.<br>"Yeah you are stronger," Stiles muttered, chewing on his lip.  
>"We should go." It was more an order than anything else and Peter walked to the window before jumping down. Stiles let Jackson go before following. At some point Peter had gotten Jackson's keys and he got in without another word. Jackson squeezed in the back seat and Stiles got in the front, Peter taking off before his door was closed. "Where are they?"<br>"Just outside Eureka." Peter drove so fast Stiles wasn't sure how he was doing it. Even his enhanced vision was blurred. Just under ten minutes Jackson was leaning forward.  
>"Stop, stop," he breathed. Peter pulled to the side of the road.<br>"What?" he asked, tone clipped.  
>"It's…Derek. I can feel him."<br>"He's close?" Peter murmured, cutting the engine. Jackson inhaled slowly.  
>"Very."<br>"Stiles, let's go. Jackson…try to stay here, won't you?"  
>"Not going anywhere," Jackson breathed, hands clenched in his lap. Stiles shot him what he hoped was a reassuring glance before getting out.<p>

Peter rounded the front of the car, taking Stiles by the shoulders. Stiles fell into the side of the Porsche as his body went boneless at the contact.  
>"Stay close to me and if things get bad for God's sakes get back to the car and get Jackson out of here. Understand?"<br>"U-uhm," Stiles was nodding before he began speaking, "yeah. Yeah okay." Worry gripped him suddenly with frigid fingers. "Everything's going to be okay, right?" Peter touched his forehead to Stiles'.  
>"It's going to be fine. We're going to get Scott and get out of here. Everything will be fine." He slid the car keys into Stiles' jacket pocket. "You ready?" Stiles moved his hands up to Peter's shoulders, steadying himself.<br>"One second," he breathed, leaning closer. He kissed Peter softly, quickly. Peter's hands moved down Stiles' ribs and gripped tighter. "Okay," Stiles said into his lips. "Let's go." Peter stepped back, his hands falling away. He closed his eyes, the irises glowing red when he opened them again.  
>"Stay close," he repeated. Stiles nodded. Peter tilted his head back, sniffing at the air. The next moment he was running. Sending up a quick prayer, Stiles followed his path. He wasn't sure where they were and he supposed it didn't matter. Speckled moonlight made its way through the trees; it was more than enough for Stiles to see. He tried to follow Peter exactly, even though his movements weren't as graceful. Peter nearly ran on all fours. Stiles didn't really know how to describe it. He just…<em>moved<em>. It was when he jerked to a stop that Stiles nearly slammed into him. Scott's sent suffused him and it took him another second to locate his best friend. Scott stood in a small clearing, indecision apparent in each inch of his body. His arms hung limp at his sides, feet slightly apart, his head did not rise at their arrival.  
>"Scott," Stiles breathed, stepping forward. Peter growled ferociously, throwing out an arm to stop him. "Are you okay?" Stiles demanded, Peter's arm curling around him.<br>"He's fine," Derek said silkily, pacing behind the first ring of trees. "I wouldn't hurt Scott. And he knows that…don't you Scott?"  
>"Yeah," Scott replied, the word barely leaving his lips. Scott still didn't look up. Stiles thought he looked like a scolded puppy.<br>"Scott," he murmured, "what did he do to you?"  
>"I didn't do anything," Derek said. "I only explained the situation."<br>"Scott please…you're my best friend." Scott finally looked at him, grimacing.  
>"Really? Because you betrayed me," his gaze skirted to Peter, "for <em>him<em>."

_A/N: I don't know how I got this up so fast. I really don't._

_Also, I'm sorry for making Derek such a douche. I'm not planning on him being the bad guy forever… _

_Still only have vague plans, glad you guys are along for the ride. :3_

_Thanks for reading._


	15. XIV: Complication

A small sound came out of Stiles' lips. He couldn't have stopped it.  
>"No…" he denied softly after another moment, "Scott I didn't, I wouldn't…" But he had. Stiles knew it.<br>"He's a killer Stiles! And you let him live! Now I'm gonna be like this forever!" Peter growled softly.  
>"I couldn't," Stiles whispered, his voice nearly failing him. "I couldn't watch him die." He hadn't known why then but it didn't matter. "How can you hold that against me Scott? You've protected Allison at all costs, putting my life on the line on numerous occasions, and I've never said a word."<br>"Allison isn't standing between you and the girl you love," Scott yelled, eyes flashing yellow. Peter growled louder, a warning.  
>"No," Stiles admitted, "no she isn't." It wasn't actually possible anyways. Stiles noticed belatedly that Derek was being quiet. Dangerously quiet. "Scott," he tried again, glancing around for Derek. "All Peter was trying to do was get revenge. Kate was insane…she burned a house down for Christ's sakes! You have to know that this, right now, is wrong."<br>"Stiles you've gone off the deep end. He's a killer. Period. And look what he's done to you…" Scott raked a hand through his hair. "Stiles if we kill him together we can both be human again. Things can go back to the way they used to be! Just you and me. Like old times. Stiles please." Stiles gasped. The very idea of him killing Peter. He shuddered, wrapping his both his arms around Peter's.  
>"Scott…I could n-never." He shook his head violently, trying to shake the words out of the air, out of existence. He was trying so hard not to reveal himself. "You couldn't either," he said, pleading. "You couldn't kill someone."<br>"I could," Scott muttered lips thin. Stiles shook his head.  
>"Don't lie Scott. Not to me." Peter's head jerked to the side suddenly, distracting Stiles. He breathed one word.<br>"Jackson."

…

Jackson's hands were clutching at his knees. He sort of couldn't breathe. Stiles and Peter were too far away to hear now and he was getting more worried by the second. What if something had happened? What if they needed him? He couldn't lose them. His lungs locked up. He couldn't lose them. Something was calling him out of the car. He had no idea what it was but it started in his chest and spread. He had to obey. He picked his way through the tree branches, body practically vibrating with all of his nerves, drawn tight.  
>"They left you so <em>vulnerable<em>," Derek said, the black of the night seeping off of him as he stepped closer to Jackson. Jackson froze, his heart skipping a beat.  
>"Don't please don't," he muttered rapidly, tongue tangling in his teeth.<br>"Don't what?" Derek questioned. He stepped even closer, backing Jackson into a tree. Jackson whimpered, hands curling into fists as sweat popped out along his forehead and mouth.  
>"Hurt me again," he whispered. Derek tsked.<br>"There's no need for that," he murmured soothingly, hands caging Jackson in. "You're mine now." He bent his head, inhaling deeply along Jackson's neck. "You're mine and you'll do what I want you to do. Whatever I want you to do." He kissed Jackson hard before Jackson could deny it. Jackson's hands went to Derek's back against his will. In a matter of seconds he'd lost any semblance of control. His back bowed, throwing him into Derek's frame. Derek's fingers teased along his spine, swirling over the swells of bone, gliding through the dips of skin. Jackson moaned the sound half caught in Derek's mouth. He couldn't think. How did it feel so good? How was it so different than before?

He let Derek in without the slightest protest when he nipped at Jackson's top lip. Derek's tongue slid inside and Jackson was drowning in him. Derek was holding him like he actually wanted him. He was kissing him like he actually felt something. Jackson's head swirled. He pulled back, head cracking into the tree. Wincing, he examined Derek's closed expression.  
>"What did you do to me?" Jackson huffed, licking his lips quickly. "What are you doing to me?" Derek smirked.<br>"Whatever I want." Jackson shouldn't have let the words hurt, but they did. His body was sending him such conflicting messages. He nodded.  
>"Yeah okay. Great." Derek's lips twitched.<br>"Did I hurt your feelings?"  
>"You really think I could have any feelings towards you at all?" Derek's amused expression remained but he released Jackson and stepped back. "You're an animal," Jackson spat, "and I won't help you get what you want."<br>"Yes you will." He leaned closer. "You really think you can handle loyalty to me and my uncle? Here's a clue…you can't." His smile twisted. "We're going to keep on pulling you and pulling you in separate directions…until you break."  
>"You can't break us."<br>"I broke you once," Derek whispered into his ear, "I'll do it again." Jackson shoved him backwards.  
>"The pack is stronger than me. Not that you would know that."<br>"We'll find out together you and I."

…

Peter stopped ahead of him, stooping into a crouch immediately. Stiles could see Derek's back, Jackson against a tree in front of him. He let out a growl without fully meaning to. Derek half turned, smiling at both of them.  
>"Joined the party how…supportive of you."<br>"Step away from my boy Derek," Peter let out very quietly. Stiles shivered at the violence the words somehow supplied. Derek stepped to the side. Both Peter and Stiles tensed at the act. "Jackson…it's okay. Come here." Jackson took a shaky step forward.  
>"You're not leaving without a kiss, are you?" The three members of the pack looked to Derek in sync.<br>"Of course I am," Jackson let out, taking another step forward. Derek released a low warning growl.  
>"Jackson come here," Peter tried again.<br>"Not yet," Derek denied. Jackson looked pained, leaning forward slightly as if he wanted to move but was unable. "Jackson," he said, nearly purring. "Come give me a kiss."  
>"Derek," Peter muttered, the word ending on a feral growl. Derek all but ignored him.<br>"Why deny?" he murmured, leaning even closer to Jackson. "We both know you'll give in." Jackson shook off his hand when Derek reached out. Derek smacked the back of his head and reached out again, tilting Jackson's jaw towards him. Jackson released a small growl of his own, lips curling. Peter tensed, lurching forward before he caught himself. He let out a rumbling growl. Derek smiled before catching Jackson's lips forcefully. Stiles cringed. A tense moment passed before Jackson shoved him away, snarling. Derek smiled again, touching his thumb to his lips briefly. Stiles wondered if he'd lost his mind. "Let's compare shall we. You have Stiles. I have Scott. Guess we'll just have to share Jackson."  
>"What are you trying to say Derek?" Derek turned to Peter fully then and Stiles, for just a moment, was selfishly glad that Peter was in front of him, protecting him.<br>"I don't think you want to see how far I'm going to take this," Derek said, eyes flickering blue. "I'm not letting this go." Peter sighed.  
>"It's to be a never ending cycle then? Push me too far Derek and I will kill you."<br>"Guess we'll find out won't we?" He spread his arm wordlessly, finally giving Jackson permission to leave. Stiles didn't breathe fully until they were all back in the car. He thought maybe Peter and Jackson didn't either.

No one spoke on the ride back. Peter parked on the street and Stiles helped Jackson out.  
>"You okay?" he questioned quietly. Jackson just shrugged.<br>"I think we should tell people you're both ill until the lacrosse team gets back. It'll help explain Jackson's absence and we won't have to put your leash back on," he added, looking to Stiles.  
>"Fine with me," he murmured.<br>"Yeah whatever," Jackson agreed.  
>"I'll be across the street," Peter said, "behave yourselves."<br>"Wait across the street?"  
>"House for rent," Peter explained, "I have to stay close by don't I?" Stiles muttered something that could have been an agreement. He wondered where Peter was getting his money from. Peter didn't move and no one spoke. Eventually Jackson went for the house, letting himself in. Stiles glanced at Peter once more before following. He wondered as he followed Jackson up the steps why Jackson was still staying with him. Maybe he didn't want to see his parents right now. Maybe he was scared of Derek. The thought made Stiles' stomach contract painfully. Derek. The wolf had overstepped his bounds. He understood the pain Derek must be going through, somewhat, but twisting that into more pain for someone that wasn't even involved wasn't okay. Derek's pain didn't excuse what he'd done. Just as Peter's pain didn't excuse him. Stiles frowned again. He didn't like this train of thought. The Hale family was synonymous with pain and suffering.<br>"Seriously," he muttered, looking to Jackson who'd already flopped on the bed, "are you alright?" Jackson was very quiet when he replied.  
>"Would you be?"<p>

_A/N: So…I'm feeling some more Jackson/Danny and some more Peter/Stiles. We'll see what I come up with. ;)_


	16. XV: Affliction

The woods were dark around him, thick with the night. He could hear Derek. He could feel him, even though they weren't touching. Derek was chasing him and all Jackson could think to do was keep running. His lungs were burning and every tendon under his skin was stretched to snapping. His lungs filled and flattened so fast he thought they might burst. His muscles had long since stopped being able to filter the oxygen through them and he didn't even know why he was breathing anymore. All together it was a useless endeavor. He knew it. At any point Derek could simply order him to stop and he would. It only made things worse. It only meant that Derek was enjoying the chase. Otherwise he wouldn't be letting it happen. Why did Derek have all the power? Wasn't this supposed to be a two way bond? Jackson exhaled sharply, lungs protesting. He kept running. Jackson had only just realized that it was strange the way he'd managed to stay ahead of Derek when Derek appeared ahead of him. He was snagged under the arm and by the back of the neck as he tried to dodge him. Derek sniffed him before lapping at his neck.  
>"The adrenaline is delicious," he informed Jackson softly, licking again.<br>"Well thank fuck for that," Jackson snapped, trying to pull away uselessly. Derek only tugged him closer, growling softly.  
>"Your body fits mine," Derek added. With Derek's erection pressed into the small of his back Jackson was heavily tempted to disagree. It was probably better to stay quiet. He couldn't slow his breathing or his heart. He had about as much control over his body as he did of Derek. None at all. "Take off your clothes," Derek ordered, shoving him forward. Jackson sighed and dropped his head. His fingertips drifted to the buttons of his shirt. His hands were slick with sweat, just as his skin and clothes were coated in it. The buttons popped free one by one and he shed the red fabric, shivering when Derek's hands helped pull it away. The thin t-shirt was stuck to his skin and once again Derek helped, hands skimming under the fabric. Jackson gasped as his spine curved, sparks shooting off all over his skin. Derek's hands slid around his hips next, pulling him back before settling on the snap of his jeans. Jackson couldn't help a moan low in his throat.<p>

Derek sucked at the base of his neck, inching Jackson's jeans open. Jackson was caught between leaning into his lips and thrusting towards his hands. Delicately strung out his eyes slid closed and he gave himself over. Derek's hands were hot and rough on his skin but Jackson couldn't see it being any other way. He didn't want it to be any other way.  
>"Do I actually get to participate this time?" he questioned, eyelids heavy and half open.<br>"No one's stopping you." Jackson reached behind him and up, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of Derek's neck. Derek growled gently, his hands freezing for a moment. Encouraged, Jackson dragged his fingernails up and down the back of Derek's neck, digging in briefly. Derek growled again, pressing closer, shoving Jackson's jeans and boxers down. "That's good," he panted. "Good boy Jacks." Jackson moaned in response. Derek's hands raked up Jackson's chest suddenly, making him catch his breath, scratching back down. He pressed back into Derek, desperation seeping into his bones. Derek repeated the action, Jackson's shirt bunching, half of it falling when Derek's hand slid back down. The other moved further up, gripping his neck. Jackson's eyelids fluttered, opening wide when Derek squeezed. His other hand moved to Jackson's hip, holding him firmly. Derek ground against him, slowly cutting off his air. Jackson wanted to beg, but his throat was too tight with panic. Why was Derek doing this? He'd said he was good… Jackson wanted to be good. He only wanted to be good. "You're worthless," Derek whispered, crushing his neck completely. Jackson sagged down as black edged at his vision. Down, down, down.

…

Stiles woke with a start, feeling ripples of Jackson's distress. It was thick in the air, cloying and clogging in his lungs. He sat up and shook Jackson hard.  
>"Jackson, Jackson wake up." Jackson's eyes shot wide and he gasped desperately for breath. He didn't sit up. Other than his frenetic inhales and wide eyes he didn't move at all. Stiles had to ask. "What happened?" Jackson sat up and leaned against the wall, clearly trying to calm himself down.<br>"N-Nothing. Just a nightmare." He shook of Stiles hand when it landed on his shoulder. "I'm fine," he snapped.  
>"You don't seem fine," Stiles said gently.<br>"I _said _I'm fine Stilinski. Goddamn."  
>"Jackson," Stiles leaned closer, not reaching for him again, even though he wanted to, "I'm part of your pack. You don't have to lie to me. You don't have to pretend to be okay. That's what I'm here for."<br>"I'm fine," Jackson insisted again, shooting off the bed. "I think I can get through one little nightmare without you or Peter holding my hand. I'm not five years old." He raked a hand through his hair and exhaled quickly, leaving Stiles' room and slamming the door. Stiles listened to his father stir as the faucet ran in the bathroom. Thankfully the sheriff didn't get up to investigate. He didn't know what to do. It was beyond clear that Jackson needed help, even more clear that he didn't want it. In the end Stiles yanked a pillow over his head and lay back down. He relaxed slightly when Jackson came back into the room.

Jackson got back into bed but laid stiff, his entire body tense. Stiles slowly tensed too as he waited for Jackson to relax. He had to relax at some point. Didn't he? How wrong he was. What felt like an hour later, Jackson was still stiff as a board and Stiles guessed that wasn't changing any time soon.  
>"Okay," he announced, getting out of bed. "I'll be back." Rounding the bed he crossed to the window and jumped down. Bare feet picking over the grass and then asphalt, Stiles tracked Peter's scent to a house diagonal from his. The front door was open under his hand and he supposed that Peter didn't really have to worry about anyone breaking in. To his immediate right was a living room, Peter sprawled on the couch. He sat up as Stiles stepped into the room, running a hand through his hair.<br>"Stiles," he greeted softly, as if this wasn't odd. He nodded once, glancing around before crossing his arms over his chest. His t-shirt felt incredibly thin all of a sudden.  
>"It didn't come with a bed?" Peter frowned slightly before shaking his head.<br>"I'm afraid I've grown used to sleeping in a hospital bed." Stiles grimaced and wasn't sure what to say. He remained silent. Peter stared at him. "Not that I mind," he finally murmured, one arm moving to rest on his knee,  
>"Jackson had a nightmare and he doesn't want my help and he needs help and I don't know what to do," Stiles blurted, hands giving short spasms at his sides.<br>"Oh," Peter let out after a long moment. The arm he'd slung over the back of the couch moved as he patted the top of it. "Come here," he whispered.

Stiles wasn't sure whether or not Peter had intended it but he climbed in his lap. He was feeling especially lost at this point and Peter comforted him. Peter was strong and firm. Peter was gravity. Peter was keeping him in one place, in one piece. One of Peter's arms wrapped around him, the other stroking along his calf as he picked at a loose thread in the couch cushion. "I am sure," Peter breathed in his ear, "that Jackson is feeling weak. Like he's not truly a part of our pack anymore. He doesn't want to admit this because it would only make him weaker. Derek has caused more damage than you truly realize Stiles. Perhaps when we mate you will understand this better. The mating bond is so much stronger than the pack bond. If Jackson had truly been willing we wouldn't stand a chance. He still wants to be with us and that's the only reason he is. The bond between mates isn't simple and sometimes it's strong enough that you feel it before you even mate. If I had to hazard a guess…it's why you saved my life." Stiles blinked rapidly, trying to follow along as his emotions shot all over the place. All of a sudden they were talking about he and Peter mating and why he'd betrayed his best friend and risked his own life in the process. It was dizzying.  
>"Um, okay," he let out, the words nothing more than a whisper. Peter chuckled, shaking him.<br>"Relax Stiles. We aren't going to do anything you don't want to. And not until it's safe." Stiles did relax at that, sagging into Peter and closing his eyes.  
>"When it's safe…" he repeated thoughtfully, going back over the words in his head after they hit the air.<br>"Yes," Peter agreed, "not a moment before."  
>"Because if Derek finds out I'm your mate…"<br>"You'll become his number one target."

_A/N: Okay so I know I promised Danny/Jackson and it's still coming…even though they can't really be together anymore. That ship has sailed… But I did manage to squeeze in just a tiny bit of Stiles/Peter. So I feel…partially accomplished. _

_Thanks. :3_


	17. XVI: Affection

"I'm not going to let that happen," Peter breathed, distracting Stiles from the horrible deaths he'd already managed to imagine. "Even if I didn't owe you my life. I wouldn't allow it to happen." He inhaled deeply and Stiles let his body move with Peter's, enjoying the contact. "To be honest I'd rather never kill anyone again. There's already so much…" He drifted, either not having a way to finish the thought or not wanting to.  
>"What are we going to do?" Stiles questioned. Peter sighed.<br>"I was so hoping Scott would be swayed. But he seems to want me dead as well."  
>"But you're stronger than Derek," Stiles protested, "why does he pose a threat at all?"<br>"I'm stronger than Derek. He is stronger than you. Jackson as well. He and Scott together could, hypothetically, take out you and Jackson. Without you two…I doubt I'd last very long at all."  
>"You really think he'd kill us?"<br>"I can't be sure of what Derek is going to try and do. He's hardly in his right mind. Even if he wouldn't, the threat is still present." He fell quiet for a moment. Stiles could almost hear him thinking over his words. "If anything it's worse now," he whispered. "Chances of Derek trying to kill Jackson have gone way down. I expect he'll try and use him for a pawn instead. If that doesn't work…that only leaves you." Stiles shifted uncomfortably.  
>"So what exactly am I supposed to be hoping for here?"<br>"You can still hope Scott cracks and leaves Derek without a fighting chance."  
>"But he'd still have Jackson." Peter didn't respond to that, sighing again.<p>

…

Danny was leaning against the lockers when Jackson closed his. Jackson didn't jump in surprise; he'd heard and smelled him coming.  
>"I cannot believe you missed the championship," Danny said airily, looking to the ceiling. "Coach was fit to tie. But we won so-" he cut off suddenly, glancing at Jackson for the first time. "Man…have you been sleeping?"<br>"A bit," Jackson answered quietly. He flinched when Danny laid a hand on his shoulder. Danny yanked his hand back, visibly shaken.  
>"Jacks-"<br>"Don't call me _that_," Jackson growled, cutting him off. Danny's jaw flapped open. He stared at Jackson silently for a long time. Jackson shifted uncomfortably. It wasn't unlike Danny to be quiet. He usually weighed his words carefully. Now however, it was making Jackson extremely uncomfortable. "I have to go," he mumbled, yanking his bag closer, almost like a shield, before setting off down the hall. Danny sighed before following along behind him. He didn't speak, not even after Jackson ducked into the bathroom and leaned against the wall. He simply stared at him and waited. Jackson wondered if anyone could be patient like Danny. "A lot of stuff has been going on," Jackson eventually offered hollowly.  
>"Starting with?"<br>"You'll miss class."  
>"I don't see how that fits in with the story," Danny said, pulling himself onto one of the sinks and crossing his arms.<br>"I thought you were mad at me," Jackson tried again, flimsy resolve getting even shakier.  
>"Yeah well…I'm assuming you're going to explain that." Jackson sighed heavily before hauling himself up onto the sink next to Danny.<br>"I'm not supposed to be telling you any of this. And that's assuming you're even going to believe me."

Jackson had to wolf out twice before Danny believed him. And that was just about the werewolf part. He'd only just finished with the mating frenzy part when the door burst open and a sophomore came in, freezing and doing a double take.  
>"Can I help you?" Jackson snapped. He visibly paled.<br>"N-No…not even a little bit," he stuttered before turning and going back the way he came.  
>"Must you scare the children?" Danny questioned. Jackson rolled his eyes and slid off the sink. This was a horrible idea. Not only should he not be doing it at all…how could he begin to explain Derek? He couldn't tell Danny about that. "So that was why you…you know."<br>"Yeah. I'm still sorry by the way."  
>"Apology accepted. But that's not what you've been losing sleep over. I'm assuming." Jackson sighed.<br>"I can't…talk about that right now." Danny frowned.  
>"Jackson, what happened?" He picked up his book bag and left the bathroom. Danny followed him again. For the first time Jackson wished he and Danny didn't have nearly identical schedules. Danny watched him all day. Jackson could literally feel Danny's eyes on him. "So the frenzy is over?" Danny questioned in the parking lot.<br>"Yeah." For him it was.  
>"And how did that happen?"<br>"Derek forced me."  
>"Derek forced you to…what?"<br>"End the mating frenzy. With him." Jackson said the words haltingly, absolutely unable to meet Danny's eyes.

Danny drove him home. He walked inside with Jackson. He even went to his room with him. When Jackson finally let it go, when he finally broke down, Danny was there. Jackson didn't have to be strong with Danny because he never had been. He never had been and Danny had never had a problem with that. Jackson really had taken him for granted all these years.  
>"I'm sorry Danny. S-Sorry." Danny stared at him incredulously.<br>"Sorry for what?"  
>"Why are you even friends with me?" Jackson demanded, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed before scrubbing his face. Danny sat up and followed, hugging him from behind.<br>"I'm friends with you because I see the amazing guy you are. The guy that gets buried sometimes. The guy who never deserved what he got." Fresh tears burned at Jackson's irises.  
>"I'm pathetic," Jackson mumbled.<br>"No you aren't."  
>"I'm a douche," he continued, not even slightly dissuaded by Danny's words.<br>"You overcompensate at times."  
>"I hate myself," Jackson whispered. Danny hugged him tighter.<br>"I love you."  
>"What?" Jackson croaked, craning his neck to look at Danny. Danny smiled softly.<br>"I love you Jackson. You're my best friend. You always have been."

Danny's fingertips smoothed over Jackson's cheeks, wiping away the tears. Jackson's eyes closed briefly. He let it happen. Danny tilted his jaw closer and kissed him. Jackson let that happen too, even though it felt wrong. He stamped down on the feelings. He didn't owe Derek anything. Danny loved him. _Danny had always loved him_.  
>"You don't understand," he whispered softly, pulling away. It wasn't because he wanted to. It was because he had to do the right thing. "I can't be with you Danny. I can't be with anyone other than Derek." Danny smiled, dimples appearing suddenly.<br>"Jackson," he said sternly, "shut up and let me kiss you."  
>"I want to," Jackson returned, shocking himself with a smile as he caught Danny's hand. "I want to but nothing can come out of it. It wouldn't be fair to lead you on."<br>"When did you turn into a fourteen year old girl?" Danny inched closer; his dimples doing a remarkable job of making Jackson forget the dig. "I just want you to feel good," Danny explained, one hand landing on Jackson's chest. "Maybe I want to feel good too."  
>"I…" Jackson's voice failed him. What could he say to that? Didn't he deserve someone who actually wanted him? If only for a few moments? Even if it couldn't mean anything? Apparently tired of waiting, Danny kissed him again. Jackson moaned softly, one hand going to the back of Danny's head. Danny pulled him back into the bed, groaning when Jackson rolled on top of him. It was wrong. It was right. Everything was twisting and turning inside of him and Jackson hadn't a hope of keeping it straight. Danny was holding him close, kissing him gently. Jackson wanted to stop, partially. He wanted to pull away. But he was almost certain he'd never been kissed by someone that genuinely cared for him. It was addictive. Just like he had been ever since Derek had grabbed him, Jackson was completely torn. What he wanted and what his body was telling him were going in opposite directions. He broke away with a groan. "I have to stop," he explained breathlessly.<br>"Okay," Danny said agreeably. Jackson sighed and let his forehead fall to Danny's shoulder.  
>"You're amazing." Danny threaded his fingers through Jackson's hair.<br>"I know."

Jackson rolled off and slid enough away so that their bodies weren't touching. "You okay?" Jackson shrugged. It didn't actually hurt…not exactly. His body was just tense. Almost as if it expected a fight. "You look constipated," Danny supplied, smiling again.  
>"Very helpful."<br>"Hey look," Danny said, propping himself up on an elbow, "you didn't do anything that I wasn't up for. And I'm not going to spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been. Yeah I love you but it would never actually work between us."  
>"Why not?" Jackson questioned, forehead wrinkling as his eyebrows encroached on it.<br>"You're too pretty for me. And you're a jock."  
>"First of all, people need to stop calling me pretty. Second of all, you're a jock too."<br>"I like punks. I've told you this before Jackson." Jackson just chuckled, covering his eyes briefly.  
>"I didn't know you were so shallow."<br>"I like what I like." Jackson dropped his hand before looking to Danny again.  
>"That's not really the reason, is it?" Danny's smile faded.<br>"I've always known I couldn't have you Jackson. The reason why changing hasn't had much effect overall." Jackson shook his head slowly.  
>"This is too much."<br>"Life is short. You gotta take the good where you can get it."  
>"Don't make it sound easy or anything."<br>"You over think everything my friend."  
>"You're a hippie masquerading as a jock," Jackson shot back. Danny snorted before shoving at him playfully. Jackson laughed a few moments before calming down. He sighed and managed a smile. "Thanks Dan." Danny took his hand in response, twining their fingers.<p>

_A/N: Jackson/Danny is officially adorable. I almost regret not sticking with them for this fic. Oh well. We all know I love Jackson/Derek. And I _promise_ that will be getting better. _

_Updates might be slower coming up. I finally have to go back to school. Oy._

_Thanks for reading and reviewing and you know…being awesome in general. _


	18. XVII: Resolution

The quiet was driving Stiles crazy. It wasn't actually quiet of course. He could hear nearly everything in the room and even a few things in the hall as well. The leash couldn't prevent that. The quiet between him and Scott was driving him crazy. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It had never been like this. Stiles felt like people were staring at them. And he was being quiet. He was upset, he couldn't help it. So then he felt like people were staring at him. Even Mr. Harris had commented.  
>"Someone kill your goldfish Stilinski?" He hadn't even managed a snappy comeback. Yeah. That's how fucked he was. It just wasn't a good day. Jackson was nowhere to be seen and if he hadn't seen him with Danny earlier Stiles would have been on red alert. Stiles hoped Danny was helping him. Somehow. He ate lunch alone, nearly pathetic enough to eat in the bathroom. By the end of the day, at least there was no practice, thank Jesus, Stiles was ready to lose his mind. He lurked by the exit closest to the bike racks, waiting for Scott. His jeep was parked crookedly a few feet away and his heart was going crazy in his chest. Part of him couldn't believe he was about to do this. But it had been a while since he'd come up with a crazy plan. This one had enough crazy to make up for it. Logistically he knew Scott was stronger than him. He was hoping, praying really, that Scott wouldn't actually want to fight him. In any case, Scott wouldn't kill him and Stiles was more than prepared to get his ass kicked. He had to try. Scott finally appeared and Stiles grabbed hold of his hood, yanking him gracelessly towards his jeep.<br>"What the-"  
>"Just shut up and get in the jeep," Stiles snapped, a bit of growl to the words. Scott jerked away, leaving his hood in Stiles' hand. Scott whirled on him as Stiles contemplated the hood, wondering how he hadn't seen that coming. He wondered if Scott would have parted with a handful of hair.<br>"Why?" Scott demanded. Stiles sighed and kicked at the grass before offering Scott his hood back.  
>"Because you're my best friend. And you always will be." Scott was slow in accepting the fragment of cloth, watching Stiles carefully.<br>"If Derek finds out…"  
>"Well then don't tell him."<p>

The plan absolutely failed. Maybe a bit stronger than absolutely failed. Stiles didn't care. In the end Scott was riding in his jeep again, heading for Stiles' house. That's what he focused on. Plus Peter would most likely be watching for him to come home so if Scott did in fact try to kill him Peter would be there in enough time to save him. Stiles hadn't actually realized that until they were halfway to his house but that didn't matter. Scott was uncomfortable. It was evident in his racing heart and the way his eyes kept flicking to Stiles. Like he couldn't help it. "Will you chill out? I just want to talk." Scott made a noncommittal noise, looking out the window. Stiles sighed to himself. Scott didn't relax, not even when they were in Stiles' room. Stiles wondered if it was Jackson's scent that was upsetting Scott. "Pinky spit swear," Stiles announced, turning towards him. Scott shot him an incredulous look.  
>"You have to be kidding."<br>"Not even close," Stiles corrected, spitting on his palm and offering it. They hadn't done it in about four years but it was the only thing Stiles could think to do. Rolling his eyes and blushing slightly Scott spit into his hand and took Stiles'. Stiles crossed his other arm over their hands, pinky out. Scott sighed before linking his pinky. "What I'm about to say doesn't leave this room. Ever."  
>"Yeah. Of course," Scott said dismissively.<br>"Peter is my mate." Scott blinked slowly. Then he laughed.  
>"Okay, yeah Stiles," he said between chuckles, "good one." Stiles huffed and dropped Scott's hands, propping his on his hips. "God it's been so long since I've heard you crack a joke I've forgotten how funny you can be," Scott managed, laughter slowly getting more hysterical. He hunched over, hands on his knees.<br>"I'm serious," Stiles insisted.

Scott laughed even harder.  
>"Yeah! Right! You're gay for a man possibly older than your father. Oh God. Stiles…you're too much."<br>"Scott," he snapped, quickly losing his patience. "Pay attention. Allison to you is Peter to me." Scott's laughter cut off suddenly and he straightened slowly, expression carefully blank.  
>"What?"<br>"We're mates. Meant to be…fated…etc. That's why I couldn't watch him die. Get it?" Scott turned and sat down on Stiles' bed.  
>"Are you serious?"<br>"Yes I'm serious," Stiles let out, exasperated. "I'm not supposed to be telling you this at all so the least you could do is freaking believe me."  
>"Why aren't you supposed to be telling me this?" Scott asked, face screwing tight in confusion.<br>"Because," Stiles said, sitting on the bed next to him, "you went dark side on me."  
>"Me? <em>You <em>went dark side on _me _Stiles!"  
>"It wasn't like I planned it! I just couldn't…I couldn't let him die." He sighed and ran both hands over his head rapidly. "I don't regret it but I am sorry I hurt you." Scott was quiet for a long moment.<br>"If it was Allison…I would have done the same thing." Stiles breathed a sigh of relief.  
>"So am I forgiven?" Scott shot him a tiny smile.<br>"Maybe."

The atmosphere slowly relaxed and Stiles was glad he'd done it. The risk had paid off.  
>"You can't tell Derek. You can't tell anyone." Scott nodded slowly.<br>"Alright. So what do we do now?"  
>"My plan stopped at getting you to talk to me again."<br>"Well killing Peter is out," Scott said, Stiles growled slightly.  
>"Obviously."<br>"And I can't join your pack. It wouldn't look good to Allison's family," he explained softly.  
>"Yeah I guess not," Stiles murmured.<br>"I guess I'll just…tell Derek I don't want anything to do with this."  
>"Hm," Stiles let out. He didn't think Derek would take that news too well. It was what they had wanted but he was still worried about what Derek was going to do. "When did our lives become such a mess?"<br>"Right around the time Peter bit me." Stiles felt himself blush.  
>"I'm sure he's sorry about that."<br>"So he's not crazy evil anymore?"  
>"Of course not!" Scott chuckled and Stiles huffed again.<br>"Oh come on Stiles…if I fell in love with him you'd be all over me."  
>"First of all he's mine. Secondly I couldn't help it." Scott laughed again.<br>"I missed you man."  
>"I missed you too."<p>

Scott left shortly after and everything wasn't perfect between them but it was certainly better. Stiles felt pretty good. Derek was still a problem but it was one that Stiles wasn't going to think about. He didn't turn when he heard Peter enter his room, sighing softly.  
>"Are you angry with me?" Peter wrapped his arms around Stiles, planting a kiss at the base of his neck.<br>"No," he whispered. "It's selfish and foolish but I'm happy. Ridiculously so. More than I deserve."  
>"Happy?" Stiles questioned.<br>"You told your best friend that I'm your mate. Even though you weren't supposed to." Stiles laid his hands over Peter's. He thought he heard a smile in Peter's voice but he was too chicken to turn and see.  
>"And you're okay with that?"<br>"I'm incredibly okay with it." Stiles relaxed into him, incredibly relieved.  
>"I really did miss him," he admitted.<br>"I never wanted you to suffer because of me. I did things I shouldn't have and I know I've hurt you. I'm sorry for that Stiles."  
>"I don't think I could be mad at you if I tried." Peter made a rumbling noise. It was a happy noise and Stiles smiled.<br>"You may be angry with me after I tell you what I've done," Peter murmured, drawing away. He paced to the window and looked out. Stiles watched him, a sense of unease spreading quickly.  
>"Why?" he asked, trying not to sound nervous. "What have you done?"<br>"I have a conversation with Chris Argent."

He said the sentence simply, as if it didn't have a monumental impact.  
>"What?" Stiles croaked. "Why? Uh…why would you do that?"<br>"Relax Stiles," Peter returned, turning and leaning on the windowsill behind him. "We didn't declare an eternal war or draw any lines in the sand. No blood feuds were formed. I simply wanted to know if he was going to make a move."  
>"And is he?" True to Peter's word Stiles was getting upset. He couldn't help it.<br>"No. He lives by his code. When I killed Kate I was only hunting what had hunted me. The knife cuts both ways. Derek is now hunting me because I hunted him. Or at least…it's close enough for Chris. Not that I thought he'd actually be of any assistance," he added as an afterthought.  
>"So he's not going to try <em>anything<em>? Nothing at all?"  
>"Look at it from his point of view Stiles. Werewolves fighting with each other. He wins either way. Of course he could just be waiting until the victor is weakened enough for him to attack," Peter paused briefly, "but he strikes me as the honorable type." Stiles snorted rudely.<br>"Yeah have him pin you against a wall and then we'll see how honorable he is." Peter smirked, actually _smirked_.  
>"Did he mortally wound you?"<br>"No," Stiles huffed, crossing his arms. He thought he'd done rather well in that fight. If he did say so himself.  
>"Ah, just your pride then." Stiles' jaw dropped.<br>"Are you taking _his _side?" he demanded. Peter just chuckled. Stiles let out a quiet, somewhat wounded noise, cheeks flushing in indignation. Peter pushed off the windowsill, not that Stiles was watching him.  
>"I'm sorry," he said quietly, taking hold of Stiles' jaw when he tried to look away. "I have no talent for humor."<br>"_That _was you being funny?"  
>"It was slightly humorous." Stiles pouted.<br>"Not to me."  
>"Hm," Peter let out thoughtfully, fingertips stroking along Stiles' jaw. "I am sorry Stiles. It's only that you've had to take everything so seriously lately. I only wanted to see you smile."<br>"You're not funny."  
>"I'm being serious," Peter insisted, eyebrows moving up.<br>"Really?" Peter simply nodded, a devastating smile toying with his lips. "Oh." Peter watched him intently, as if Stiles was about to tell him something he'd never dreamt of telling another soul. Stiles smiled, just a bit. Peter was just being really…sweet. How was it possible? How could this man be sweet and charming and wonderful? "You should find some other ways to make me smile," Stiles murmured, looping his arms around Peter's neck, "cause you are definitely not funny."  
>"I accept your challenge," Peter breathed, lips feathering over his again.<p>

_A/N: So tomorrow is my final day of summer. And I just read a really sad fic. And just yeah. Feeling a bit sad. So some fluffy Peter was called for. Hope you don't mind. Should be chipping away at Derek/Jackson next chapter…_


	19. XVIII: Seduction

Jackson came back from dinner more relaxed than he had been in weeks. He wasn't thinking about lacrosse. He wasn't worried about Scott. Lydia wasn't bugging the shit out of him. Things between Danny and he were even good. He smiled at the thought. Way good. A part of him suspected that Danny was being self sacrificing to try and make him happy but Jackson couldn't do anything but accept it. Overall he was in a pretty amazing mood. Until he walked into his room. Derek stood as the door slid shut.  
>"What are you doing here?" Jackson questioned, throat tight.<br>"I can smell him," Derek said, pacing closer, ignoring Jackson's question. "You really shouldn't be with other people Jacks." Jackson didn't say anything, mapping out possible escapes. "It makes me angry," Derek breathed, grabbing the front of Jackson's shirt. He pivoted and threw Jackson across the room, onto his bed. Fear was sluicing over his skin. It only increased when Derek slipped his jacket off. Jackson scooted up the bed, stopping when he hit the headboard and leaning against it.  
>"My p-parents are right downstairs," he hissed, stumbling over the words. Derek didn't even answer him.<br>"Offer yourself to me," Derek said instead. Jackson stared as Derek stopped at the foot of the bed.  
>"W-What?"<br>"I know you can hear me, so this is the last time I'm repeating myself." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Offer yourself to me. Hands and knees. Naked." Jackson wasn't entirely sure what happened. He responded before he actually thought about it.  
>"No." Derek was perfectly still and perfectly quiet for several painful moments.<br>"No?" he questioned softly. As if he'd never heard the word. As if it was never a concept presented before him. Now too scared to actually form words, Jackson shook his head. Derek smiled and Jackson's heart sank. He climbed into the bed, crawling forward until he hovered over Jackson. "No," he said again, still smiling.

His hand trickled up Jackson's chest, stopping at his neck. "You think you can be with someone else and then deny me." He began to squeeze. "You think that this is acceptable behavior for a mate." He squeezed harder. Jackson gasped and grabbed at his arm with both hands, Derek paused, a brief reprieve.  
>"We are <em>not <em>mates," Jackson growled. "Say what you want, do what you want, I obviously can't stop you but don't try to delude yourself. You forced me and I hate you. Even if I never get a single ounce of pleasure from him he'll be more of a mate than you could ever be." Derek seemed to actually consider his words for a moment. His eyes flashed blue.  
>"You're mine Jackson. Nothing will ever change that." He leaned closer and Jackson bucked his body, trying to dislodge him. It only served to land him on his back, Derek even more in control than before.<br>"Go ahead. Force me again." Jackson gave into the wolf. He couldn't help it. Yes it was his mate on top of him but he was also afraid for his life. He growled in his chest before slashing at Derek's neck. Derek didn't try to dodge the attack and hot blood spilled out, landing on Jackson's jaw and mouth.  
>"You think I can't be gentle?" Derek questioned, throat moving as the scratch marks healed. "You think I can't give you exactly what you want?" Why did this line of questioning scare him more? "Oh Jackson," Derek breathed, hands loosening suddenly. "I can be a good mate…if I choose to be." Derek kissed him softly, slowly edging his tongue out to lap at the copper on his lips. Jackson couldn't help a small moan. He dropped right out of his wolf form as the fear tapered off. Pleasure began building and he wasn't sure there was anything he could do to stop it.<br>"Don't," he breathed, eyes closed as Derek moved to his neck. Derek cleaned off the rest of his speckled skin, hands ghosting down and then moving back up, under his shirt. Jackson arched into the touch even as his mouth continued its protests. "Please…Derek…stop it." Derek sat up, straddling his lap.  
>"No one will ever be able to make you feel the way I can," he murmured, pushing Jackson's shirt up and lifting him enough to take it off. His hands trailed back down Jackson's torso. Derek slowly slid down, lavishing his skin with more teasing licks. Arousal swamped him suddenly and Derek looked up at him, mouth just above the band of his jeans. "Feels good doesn't it?" Jackson couldn't manage a reply. His hands fisted in the pillow behind his head. Derek skimmed a hand up his stomach and Jackson felt his hand and his stomach at the same time. Somehow he could feel Derek touching him from his skin and from Derek's. "We have a good connection," Derek breathed, words blowing hot across his damp skin. "It's strong." Jackson writhed, confused and aroused nearly to the point of pain.<br>"Whare you talking about?" he managed, tongue swollen and flopping horribly.  
>"I let you in," Derek answered simply. "You feel what I feel." His teeth scraped along Jackson's abs as if to prove it and Jackson gasped. Part of him knew it was his own muscle under Derek's mouth but he still couldn't entirely believe it. "You could let me in too," Derek said, opening his jeans. Jackson sighed happily. It felt like a year since this whole thing had started. How long had Derek been here? "We'll work on it," Derek told him before lowering his mouth again.<p>

Jackson's eyes rolled back. His hands moved down to Derek's head, threading through his hair. He pulled lightly, groaning as he felt that too. Derek didn't stop him; he didn't even seem upset by the action, in fact he took the head of Jackson's cock into his mouth. Jackson whimpered. He couldn't…think. He was burning and he needed more. God he needed more.  
>"Derek," it slipped out. He inhaled shallowly. "Please Derek…" He could feel Derek examining him. Listening to his heart and breath rate. He moved up slowly.<br>"I like you begging for me." He was telling the truth. Jackson could even feel that too. Derek kissed him again with delicious pressure. His hands framed Jackson's face. Jackson wasn't going to admit it out loud…but he liked it too. He liked this side of Derek. He liked this rush of pleasure between them. "I want you to come apart," Derek whispered, "just for me." Jackson didn't think he had much choice in the matter, not that he minded this time. Derek tugged off his shirt and tossed it away. He climbed off and ripped off his shoes before shedding his pants and boxers. He slid back between Jackson's legs, working his pants down. Jackson arched to help him, moaning again. He was naked in another moment. Derek disappeared briefly, coming back up with a slim tube in hand. Jackson stared at him, long enough for Derek to begin working him open, before it clicked in his head.  
>"You <em>bought <em>lube?" he questioned, voice hoarse and cracking. Derek's hand froze inside of him and his hazel eyes flicked up to Jackson's wide ones.  
>"Yeah. So?" Jackson's hips rocked on their own. Derek had actually… He couldn't breathe. Derek had actually thought enough to purchase lube. To make sex easier. Better for Jackson but surely that wasn't the reason.<br>"N-Nothing," he managed, realizing Derek was still waiting for a response, "just…" He drifted off, he hadn't known how to finish the sentence anyways and Derek was moving again.

Jackson can't help the thought, thighs brushing his stomach as Derek settles between his splayed knees, he can't stop the idea that this is how it should be. That this is so good, so right, that it never should have been anything else. It's ridiculous for many reasons, two that he can actually think of. One, of _course _it shouldn't have been the way it happened the first time. Nothing should ever be that way. Two, he and Derek weren't right. It felt good. Nothing more. It didn't matter that Derek's skin brushing his was electric, at least it shouldn't. Derek's hands were framing his face suddenly, demanding his attention. Derek kissed him again, softer now, a stark contrast to the rest of his body, the tight coiled muscles and what he was doing with them. Jackson exhaled softly, lips parting. Derek's tongue teased at his, touching lightly. The kiss was bordering on sweet and in the back of his mind, for a split second, Jackson couldn't help but wonder why Derek was kissing him. Derek slid into him again and Jackson lost the thought, claws extending into Derek's biceps. He tried to mumble an apology, pain pricking at his senses, but physically couldn't. Derek's eyes flashed blue and his lips curled the smile full of canines. Jackson shuddered under him. He clutched at Derek, trying to pull him closer, needing him closer. Jackson's entire body was drawn tighter than he thought possible. Every time he neared the edge, Derek would purposely slow, torturing him. Jackson was beyond pride; he'd never really had the option with Derek anyways, and was begging breathlessly. Derek would simply shake his head and drop a kiss to Jackson's mouth or throat. He seemed to particularly like kissing the part of Jackson's neck that he'd marked, even though the skin had long since healed. Still, Jackson felt a thrill every time his lips pressed there. He was half sure it was coming from Derek. His body tightened further, the pleasure bordering on pain now. "Derek," he gasped, "_please_." He didn't know what else to do. He needed release desperately. This time Derek smiled. He pulled out and thrust forward again, sinking his teeth into Jackson's neck as he did. Everything fell from under Jackson. He was gone. Absolutely gone. He was only vaguely aware of Derek sagging down on top of him. He dropped a kiss to Jackson's sweat soaked hair. Jackson didn't move, boneless as Derek extracted himself and dressed. He tugged at his jacket sleeves, moving to the window. Derek paused and looked to Jackson. Jackson couldn't help a small gasp as Derek snapped the connection between them. He felt emptier, somehow. Lost.  
>"I want you to remember that," Derek said slowly, "next time I tell you to do something. Things can be good between us. But that depends on you." He slid the window open and disappeared. Jackson slowly looked to the ceiling. He'd never realized that this version of Derek could be much more dangerous.<p>

_A/N: No time..off to work. Wish me luck! _

_Review?_

_Thanks._


	20. XIX: Fixation

Somehow Stiles thought that it wasn't so much of a challenge as it was a game already won. His occupied lips were already trembling, trying to smile as the kiss went on. It didn't work of course but Stiles was okay with that. Smiling because of Peter wasn't as important as Peter.  
>"What if I tell you about things that make me smile?" Peter questioned, drawing his lips away. Stiles sighed softly and curled his hands, trying to keep them at his sides. He needed to calm down. It wasn't like this could go anywhere. Stupid freaking Derek.<br>"Okay," he agreed breathlessly.  
>"Aside from the obvious," Peter said, hands smoothing down Stiles' neck and resting on his shoulders, "I like your neck Stiles."<br>"M-My neck?" Stiles questioned, feeling himself flush. Peter smiled.  
>"Yes. I love it when your pulse is pounding so hard I can practically smell it. I love how perfectly pale and bitable it is." His fingers arched up, spanning over the skin. "I can't wait to mark you up. When we mate the mark will always be there…even after it heals. God Stiles I can't wait to bite your neck and claim you." A single fingertip drifted down his Adam's apple. Stiles couldn't help a slight moan. "I fantasize about it constantly." Just when Stiles thought he couldn't say anything more shocking.<br>"You do?" the words barely even left his lips.  
>"I debate," Peter continued smoothly. "Which way would be the best, soft and slow…fast and rough. If you knew it was coming or maybe even if you didn't. Perhaps if you'd been running from me and I caught you from behind. On the full moon." He inhaled deeply before sighing. "Most of them are utterly unrealistic," he conceded, eyes crinkling slightly. "I wouldn't risk hurting you." Stiles couldn't form words at that point and merely nodded, tongue moving over his parched lips.<p>

The last remaining air in his lungs whooshed out as Peter stepped closer and kissed Stiles' neck. He trailed his lips over Stiles' throat slowly, seemingly attending to every centimeter of skin. Stiles' head fell back against his will and he moaned again. Peter hummed against his skin, tongue sliding out again. He licked over the swells of vein and bone, sucking at the dips of skin with equal attentiveness. He scoured his teeth over the skin next, back and forth, diagonal and up. His hands slid over Stiles' shoulders, tugging at the collar of his shirt before sliding under. Peter's fingers curled before raking over his collar bones. Stiles shivered and pressed closer to him. He wasn't sure why Peter was obsessed with his neck, but it was shooting him straight into the stratosphere. He nearly wanted to warn Peter that it was going too far but he was desperate for it not to end. His hands fell down limply and after another moment he forced them up, skating up Peter's back. He scratched lightly back down, releasing a slight growl. Peter growled back at him and moved his hands down to Stiles' ass, cupping it with both hands and dragging him forward. There wasn't anywhere for Stiles to go and he ended up curling into Peter's body, nearly every inch of them touching. Peter groaned, lips pulling off Stiles' skin but still hovering near enough for Stiles to feel each puff of breath. Stiles gripped at Peter's shirt helplessly. It was all he could do to stay upright. Maybe he didn't want to be upright anyways. Maybe he just needed…  
>"Bed," he whispered.<p>

Peter didn't move for a moment and Stiles froze as a thick shot of fear sliced through him. "I-I mean…" There wasn't really any backtracking from that. Why was he afraid now? He shouldn't be. They'd already…done things. Stiles blushed. Was he in ninth grade now? "Will you please just," he took an achingly deep breath, "come to bed with me?" He didn't know what he would do if Peter said no. Maybe lose his mind. Peter lifted him and started walking backwards. Stiles stopped worrying. His hands wound their way into Peter's hair and he tilted his head back for a kiss. Everything was beyond what Stiles had expected and nothing had really even happened yet. Peter turned at the last moment and laid him down gently, lips moving to his neck again. Peter pressed one more hot kiss to his skin before straightening and stripping his shirt off. Stiles simply watched, hypnotized. Not that Peter didn't look good in a button up but the way he peeled that t-shirt off… Stiles barely contained a shiver. Peter lifted one of his ankles, pulling off his shoe before removing the sock as well. The second foot proved to be no trouble at all and Stiles swallowed as Peter tossed the sock over his shoulder before crawling into bed with him. He hovered over Stiles a short moment before his hands were skimming up Stiles' stomach. Stiles let out a quiet moan, arching into the touch. The skin on skin contact had his nerves buzzing. One of Peter's hands slid back out and he yanked Stiles up by the front of his shirt, capturing his lips again. Stiles hung in his shirt, kissing him back immediately. His shirt was gone and he flopped back on the mattress before Stiles realized the kiss was over. Peter smiled at his obviously shocked expression. Stiles smiled too, grabbing his hips before rolling them both. He straddled Peter quickly, dragging his arms above his head and holding down his wrists. Peter still looked amused but Stiles could feel the heat of his gaze now. He liked it.

He leaned down slowly, squeezing his hands as he brushed his lips teasingly over Peter's. Peter's lips parted, gently sucking on Stiles' bottom lip. Stiles rolled his hips, lips pulling away in a smile when Peter groaned. So maybe he'd never done this before. That didn't matter. This was Peter. Stiles didn't have to think. It just worked. It just was. This was Peter. The thought soothed his jangling nerves. Peter was his mate. He loved Peter. His heart gave a more severe thump in his chest and he pulled back. Oxygen tangled in his lungs and for a moment he couldn't breathe. He loved Peter. Stiles smiled slowly, stupidly. Peter arched an eyebrow. Stiles kissed him again before he could ask. He released Peter's arms as he moved down. Stiles explored Peter's neck and chest, feeling high on the scent of him. Feeling oddly courageous Stiles began peppering the skin with kisses as he went. Peter's heart was thudding heavily under his mouth. Stiles' eyes flickered closed for a moment. He moved further down. It was better without seeing it. He could hear Peter more clearly, more importantly he could feel Peter better. The texture of the skin. Each inhale. Each rib and the indents between. Stiles kissed the jut of his hip bone, tongue sliding down the v of muscle next. He paused at the band of Peter's jeans, biting the denim as it stopped his progression. Peter's hips bucked sharply.  
>"S-Stiles," he groaned. Stiles' head popped up in sheer shock.<br>"Did you just stutter?" he demanded, jaw flapping open. Peter looked less than amused by the situation.  
>"Your timing is far from ideal."<p>

Stiles moved his hands to Peter's zipper, knowing forgiveness was needed. His cheeks were flushed red when he glanced back to Peter.  
>"I was just…a little proud of myself." And he <em>was<em>. He'd made Peter falter. The man was too damn near perfect and that little chink… Stiles had caused it. He sucked on a patch of skin as he fumbled with Peter's jeans. After a few seconds he raised his head to actually look at what he was doing. Why was it so easy taking off his own pants and so hard taking off Peter's? Maybe it was more the situation. "Maybe there's a reason you're the alpha," he thought aloud.  
>"Surrendering so easily?"<br>"What if I did?" Stiles questioned, cursing the fact that they were still talking in the back of his mind.  
>"I'm afraid I'd have to hunt you down." That didn't send a thrill through Stiles. He wouldn't admit it anyways.<br>"We are so doing that," he said, finally slipping the brass button free. Peter resumed his silence, body bowing slightly. Heat suffused Stiles when he realized Peter wasn't wearing anything under his jeans. He didn't picture Peter as the type. He pressed one more kiss to Peter's skin, just at the start of the patch of hair, before Peter pulled him up and flipped them both.  
>"This is going too far," Peter informed him softly, taking hold of his wrists.<br>"No it isn't," Stiles muttered quickly, desperation seeping in. "Not at all. Not even a little. It can't be too far if it's not even there yet."  
>"Relax," Peter breathed into his ear, dropping another kiss on his jaw, "I didn't say I was stopping." He made embarrassingly quick work of Stiles' jeans, completely taking them off without any help at all. Stiles already felt naked under Peter's hungry inspection.<p>

Slight shivers ran up and over his skin as Peter painstakingly repeated what Stiles had done. When he reached Stiles boxers he didn't stop, simply peeling them out of the way. He turned Stiles over, hands running down his back slowly, over the curve of his butt as well. Stiles shivered and wriggled, unable to stay still. Peter gave a light slap, releasing a playful growl as well. Stiles moaned, hips lifting when Peter rubbed over the flushed skin. "We need something," Peter said, pressing a kiss to the small of his back.  
>"Mm," Stiles let out, rubbing his face against the pillow in ecstasy. Peter gave another small slap. "M-oh ah, lotion…under the bed." Stiles wasn't even sure how his brain made the connection.<br>"Good boy," Peter said. Stiles could hear his smile. He couldn't help smiling too. The lotion was shockingly cold but Peter's hand was warm behind it. "Relax," Peter advised, pressing a finger against Stiles. Stiles exhaled slowly. He couldn't help but tense as Peter pushed a finger inside. It stretched him and burned but Stiles pushed back onto it, already wanting more. He groaned, hands fisting in the sheets. Peter laid one hand flat on his back, holding him still as he pulled back out and thrust inside again. He added another finger after a few thrusts, slowing when Stiles tensed. He started again almost the exact second Stiles decided he wanted more. Peter was in tune to him and Stiles supposed he shouldn't he so surprised by that.

Stiles was in a hazy heat when Peter pulled him up by the hips. "This might be a little too much," Peter breathed in his ear, hovering over him, "but it's easier to do it fast. Okay?" Stiles mumbled something incoherently, moaning deeply when Peter thrust inside. Peter paused and Stiles moaned again. Peter was swelling inside of him.  
>"Oh God," he let out, head falling forward. Peter massaged his hips. It burned slightly but it was almost as if his body was healing before it could actually be damaged. Their hearts were both beating so quickly Stiles couldn't even discern the two. For a moment he felt giddy. It was almost like Peter was a part of him. Peter was a part of him like he was supposed to be and it was perfect. He wanted to touch Peter and he would try if it didn't already feel so good. Stiles didn't want to take a chance of messing this up. If this was how Peter wanted it… The thought drifted off as Peter thrust in again. He released another moan, embarrassingly loud. For a moment he worried about the neighbors hearing. But Peter was still in motion. Touching and holding. His body gliding behind and over Stiles'. Stiles felt wonderfully reckless as he began rocking backward to meet him. The shock still hadn't worn off. He still couldn't believe this was actually happening.<p>

He gave a slight cry when Peter flipped him onto his back, maneuvering his flying legs easily. Stiles stared up at him with wide eyes before looking to where they were still connected. "That doesn't hurt does it?" he blurted before his entire face flushed. It was as red as a fire hydrant if the heat was anything to go by. Peter smiled and Stiles slapped a hand over his eyes. Why was his mouth always running?  
>"It doesn't hurt," he murmured, leaning down to kiss Stiles' throat again. "Trust me," he added, nipping at the skin and rotating his hips slightly. Stiles moaned helplessly, hands falling onto Peter's forearms, nails digging in. One of Peter's hands wrapped around the base of Stiles' cock, knot and all. Stiles' eyes squeezed shut and he couldn't help whimpering. Peter stroked after each thrust, reducing Stiles to a writhing, moaning mass of muscle and nerves. Peter just kept pushing him higher. Stiles lost track of everything. He couldn't figure out what he was doing or how much time was passing. Even his heartbeat and breaths had seemed to settle into a dizzying thrum that simply <em>was<em>. Sweat was gathering on his body, sticky and cool against his burning skin. His eyes couldn't stay open or closed. He was a mess when all the nerves and sensations finally gathered too tight and sprung apart. It literally felt like a small explosion had rocked his bedroom, somehow behind his eyelids as well. Peter was breathing heavily above him, jaw clenched, mouth red. It took Stiles several moments to notice that his neck had been torn open and was healing.

His hand wandered up and touched the wound. Peter flinched and closed his eyes, exhaling quickly.  
>"I bit you," Stiles said curiously.<br>"Instinctive I'm afraid." Stiles examined himself quickly, not sure that he'd have felt it. "No I didn't bite you," Peter breathed, "not yet." He slid out once the swelling had gone down and went to the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth and a towel. Stiles hadn't moved in the twenty seconds he was gone. Peter cleaned them both off and climbed into bed, pulling up a sheet. Stiles moved closer without thinking. "I didn't hurt you?" Peter questioned softly. Stiles bit his lip against the small smile.  
>"No…I um think the wolfiness kinda took care of that."<br>"Good," Peter murmured, wrapping an arm around him. "I thought not but I was a bit distracted to be honest."  
>"You could have bit a pillow," Stiles offered, "I wouldn't have minded. They were only like…five bucks." Peter arched an eyebrow.<br>"What would biting a pillow have done?" Stiles paused to think about it.  
>"I don't actually know…"<p>

_A/N: This chapter. So huge. And now I'm going to bed. Because this behemoth fought me the whole way. I am _exhausted. _Next chapter should be up soonish… So far school is…well. It's okay so far. (20 credit hours though so reader beware..) _

_I'd like to start wrapping this up but I still have no idea how to end it so I can't make any promises. Plus it's already four times longer than it was supposed to be…_

_You all are bad influences._

_But you are so lovely. _

_I don't even think I mind._

_I'll stop sleepy rambling now._

_Thank you and good night._


	21. XX: Malfunction

Jackson needed to clear his head. He wasn't sure exactly how to do that. In the end he did what had always worked in the past. He went for a run. He didn't bother with shoes or his car, yanking on jeans and a shirt before jumping out the window. Jackson inadvertently followed Derek's scent for a while, veering off when he realized what he was doing. The last thing he needed was to run into Derek now. Jackson was feeling unusually vulnerable. It seemed like every time he was beginning to get used to how things were they changed again. He'd just found a place to rest his head and Derek had turned his world upside down. He was fairly sure he could be friends with Danny still, but it certainly couldn't extend beyond that. Not that it could anyways. Jackson's feet faltered and he stumbled. As far as actually _being _with someone, all he had was Derek. After tonight… Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. He jerked to a stop, shaking his head roughly. No. He couldn't think like that. He couldn't let himself think that he could actually _like _Derek. That was a horrible idea. On principle alone. Derek had done nothing good for him so far. He was a threat to the pack and nothing more. That was what Jackson needed to remember. He swatted at a branch without thinking about it, doing a double take when the entire tree shuddered, nearly uprooting itself. He jumped forward, both hands settling on the bark and pushing it back into place. It was only then that he glanced around the darkened woods. Seeing a silhouette not even twenty feet away, his heart shot into his throat. The shadow lifted its hand and Jackson heard the words crystal clear.  
>"I got one."<p>

Jackson did the only thing he could think of, he ran. Every base instinct was screaming at him to do so. All he could think of were hunters. Who else would be out here? Who else would say 'I got one'? Was he going to die? Carbon dioxide locked in his chest at the same moment he heard a gunshot. At least he assumed it was a gunshot. It was much louder than the movies, echoing in his ears. Much scarier. It was the last thought before his left knee exploded. Jackson fell, rolling. It might have been instinctive, he didn't care either way. His left leg, starting halfway up his thigh and moving down, was sheer burning agony. He laid on the ground for a few precious moments, ragged breaths escaping his chest. He had to get up. He had to move. Either that or he really was going to die. Tears in his eyes, Jackson rolled to his side before standing on his good leg. Biting into the flesh of his lip, he ran. It was hell. Whimpers escaped on every jolt of bone. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't howl for help. There had to be more than one hunter and Jackson just couldn't risk it. He had to be strong now. It he could just keep going. If he could just get somewhere safe. Four more gunshots from behind him. Not far enough behind, one hit. It lodged between two of Jackson's ribs, on his right side. Ridiculously Jackson was glad the bullets had somewhat balanced out. He didn't know if he would have been able to keep moving if they hadn't. The hunter was gaining on him and Jackson had his doubts about whether he'd be able to outrun him or not. His vision blurred after another couple feet and Jackson stumbled helplessly in the darkness, stomach twisting and turning sickly. Panic was edging out his breathing without much of a fight. Exposed tree roots grabbed at his feet and it wasn't very long at all before Jackson fell again. An anguished groan escaped gritted teeth. He knew he didn't have the strength to get back up. It was over.

He knew it was the cowardly thing to do, but he closed his eyes. A sudden growl shook him to the core, forcing a shudder up his spine. Jackson's eyes shot wide in time to see the hunter lurking over him disappear from view. He couldn't believe the pure relief rocking through him. He pulled himself up, groaning, expecting to see Peter. Derek was crouched protectively in front of him, still growling at the hunter.  
>"Neither of us has ever killed a human," Derek said after a short pause. The hunter smirked and Jackson forced himself to his feet.<br>"I don't care." Unease seeped into Jackson then. Derek launched himself at the hunter, not before the hunter got another shot off. Jackson cringed. He fell against a tree, debating if he would help or hinder Derek's efforts. It didn't really look like Derek was having much trouble so Jackson focused on not passing out. Derek wrapped the hunter in a headlock and Jackson may in fact have blacked out because the next thing he knew Derek was pulling him up, practically carrying him.  
>"Did you kill him?" Jackson managed on a whisper, eyelids heavy.<br>"No," Derek responded softly.  
>"Okay," he sighed, letting awareness slip away.<p>

He woke up slowly, sore, the sound of trickling water filling his ears. Jackson sat up slowly, expecting to be alone. When he saw Derek he jumped, both wounds protesting. "Fuck," he let out.  
>"Those will hurt for a while," Derek said, crouching next to him. "You were out for the worst of it though." He edged around Jackson, to a small pool of water, glancing to the mouth of the cave for a second. "We should be safe here," Derek added, lifting soaked fabric to Jackson's forehead and patting it gently. The water was cool and the touch was gentler than he expected, Jackson sagged a bit. "They'll probably stop searching by morning. We can get you home then." Jackson couldn't look at Derek and so he examined himself instead. His shirt was gone and he suspected it was what was tied around his stomach and knee. The fabric was too darkly mottled to tell.<br>"You saved me," he murmured. Derek didn't respond immediately, returning the fabric to the pool of water instead.  
>"The bullets are already out," he finally offered, sitting back.<br>"You saved me," Jackson repeated stubbornly. He wasn't letting it go, even though something told him he should.

Derek sighed softly and looked away before running a hand through his hair.  
>"I felt you," he said duplicitously. "You were hurt and scared and you must have opened the connection without meaning to. It was either save you or feel each of your last moments with you."<br>"Oh." The short word was sharp with something that Jackson hesitated to call disappointment, but only because of his pride. "I thought I was going to die," he whispered after another moment. He let his eyes close, shrouding himself in ashamed dark.  
>"It's alright. You're safe now Jackson."<br>"It was stupid," he said, meeting Derek's eyes, almost wanting to see the agreement there. "I shouldn't have gone out alone like that. I should have known something like that could happen?"  
>"How?" Derek asked, dark brow spiking. "How could you have known more hunters had come into town?" Jackson opened his mouth before he actually had an answer. Didn't Derek understand? He just should have <em>known<em>.  
>"My life is different now," he murmured instead. "I can't just run around like it's still safe to do so."<br>"Jackson," Derek snapped, "it is not your fault."  
>"Yes it is."<br>"No," Derek said, louder, "it isn't. Now calm down before you open up those gunshots." Jackson let out a quick hmpf before forcibly closing his lips. It wasn't until they'd both been quiet for a while that Jackson realized why he felt he should have known. He spent some time remembering the last time he'd been chased through the woods, terrified. He didn't mention it aloud. Instead he lay back down and tried to sleep.

He wasn't aware of much the next time he woke up. There was a body framing his from the side and Jackson knew deeply that he didn't want to move. He could smell Derek. He felt warm and safe. A faint red light was filtering through the cave and Jackson closed his eyes against it, willing it away. It didn't work of course but he kept his eyes closed anyways. There was something draped over him, too thick and firm for him to understand. It took another few moments, several shallow breaths, for Jackson to realize there was an arm over him that didn't belong to him. He peeked down, Derek's jacket over him, his hand limp peeking from the edge of it. Something in Jackson swelled then. Something he couldn't understand. He had a feeling it wasn't something he'd been born with. He tried to stamp it down, or at least push it away, but it stayed in his chest, immobile, unchangeable. It was unsettling to say the least. He tried again to deny it. He even tried, quite desperately, to simply be glad he was alive. That failed to work because it led him right back to Derek. He sighed, shivering as Derek's arm slid slightly. There was a quick exhale, right in his ear, stunningly loud. Jackson froze perfectly, not even daring to breathe. It didn't work. He knew it wouldn't. Derek could hear his accelerated heart just as well as he could.

Derek sat up wordlessly, taking his jacket after another moment. Standing he paused, jacket clutched in both hands. Jackson was about to ask what was wrong, the words were on his lips, when Derek sagged against the rock beside him. Jackson jumped up and then fell as his knee gave out. He smacked into Derek and took hold of his shoulders.  
>"What's wrong?" He didn't miss the way Derek avoided his eyes.<br>"Damn bullet moved," Derek groaned, eyes closing briefly. Jackson felt his eyebrows shoot up.  
>"What bullet?" he questioned stupidly. Derek glared at him and Jackson flushed in response. "You got shot?" he tried again.<br>"Yes Jackson," Derek said slowly, "one of the bad hunters _shot _me. With his _gun_. A _gun _that used _bullets. _And now a _bullet _is inside _me_." Jackson's face got hotter and he glanced to his bare feet in the dirt. "Because I was saving _you_. And I am a _werewolf_. _Hunters _do not _like _werewolves."  
>"Okay I get it," he snapped before grinding his teeth. "I'm not stupid." By Derek's expression it was clear that he doubted that. Severely. "Alright," Jackson said, dropping his arms before righting himself. "What do you want me to do?" Derek's eyebrow rose slowly.<br>"You're not squeamish…are you?"

_A/N: Going to be so tired at school tomorrow (later this morning)…tra la la…_


	22. XXI: Extraction

Jackson hadn't thought so but he had to take a moment to re-evaluate staring at the abnormally pale lump under Derek's skin, nearly brushing his spine. He gulped slowly. It was simple in his head, not so simple to actually move his hand.  
>"Did you faint?" Derek muttered, muscles rippling.<br>"No," Jackson shot back. His hands clenched. "Why-wh-why…" He wasn't even sure what he wanted to ask.  
>"Why what?" Derek snapped.<br>"Why'd it move?" he blurted.  
>"Hollow point ammunition. It doesn't go all the way through. Just hurts like hell. My body pushed it as it tried to heal. Trouble is the skin already closed over."<br>"Oh," Jackson said, lips numb.  
>"Anything else?" Jackson couldn't think of anything. "Could you just hurry up?" Jackson sighed, really, really wishing he had a knife. Inhaling deeply, Jackson stared at his hand. This was no big deal. He'd wolfed out before. Sort of. "Do it," Derek growled. Jackson's nails sprung out and he slashed under the lump before they could retract or he lost his nerve. Derek groaned, flinching slightly. Jackson slipped the bullet out and patted the skin back into place.<br>"There," he said, flicking the lump of metal away in distaste. Derek was oddly quiet. Jackson waited a few moments. "Are you alright?"  
>"I'm fine," Derek said, pushing himself up and yanking his shirt back on in jerky movements. He was slower with his jacket and Jackson wondered where his mind was. Jackson stood, still watching him. "Thank you," Derek eventually said so softly Jackson wondered if he'd imagined it. It was because of this that Jackson was staring at him like a deer in the headlights when he finally turned. "What?" Derek snapped, any trace of gratitude that might have existed vanishing.<br>"Nothing," Jackson muttered quickly, looking down. Better to pretend he'd heard what he thought he'd heard than question Derek.

Derek was quiet as they picked their way back through the woods in the grey dawn. Jackson didn't speak for fear of…well he wasn't sure what he was afraid of exactly. All he knew was that things were strange and he didn't want to upset the tenuous balance they'd found. Derek stopped at the edge of the woods and Jackson kept going, assuming Derek wanted him to. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Derek grabbed him by the shoulder. Heat flowed through Jackson in uneven, heady waves. He licked his dry lips, waiting for Derek to say something. Derek looked irritated and the longer they stood in silence the more nervous Jackson became. Derek finally blew out a sigh.  
>"Be careful yeah?" It barely qualified as a question but Jackson was mystified nonetheless.<br>"Alright," he rasped. Derek seemed at least partly satisfied by this and pushed him away. Jackson stumbled slightly and caught his footing before looking to Derek once more. He'd half expected him to be gone and his heart skipped a beat when Derek was still there. He didn't show any signs of moving either so Jackson turned and started walking. He was maybe ten feet away when he began to wonder if Derek was still watching him. At fifteen feet he snuck a glance over his shoulder. Adrenaline flooded his heart and he spun, making sure he was really seeing what he thought he was. "Derek!" he screamed in warning. Jackson's feet were already flying, nearly making him fall again. Derek immediately swiveled, thank God. The hunter just over his shoulder fired, not in time. Derek fled into the woods. Jackson didn't think, he followed.

The ground was rougher than he remembered. It was porous and tangled, trying to catch his feet. Still Jackson stumbled on, failing to notice when his vision shifted to red and he fell to all fours. All he could think about was Derek. For a moment he thought that was how it should be. Jackson tore past the hunter without realizing; only stopping, feet digging desperately into the earth, when he passed Derek as well. One hand slapped over Jackson's mouth and he was yanked to the side.  
>"He's alone. Stay close." Derek pulled him along for several heart stopping moments before releasing him. They wove a crooked path through the trees, faster and faster until Jackson didn't even think of the hunter anymore. Derek ran. He ran. A house appeared unexpectedly. It looked different in the daytime. "In the car," Derek ordered, human features returning. Jackson forced a deep inhale, heart still pounding in his head. He curled his hands, nails digging into his palms until he looked human again. The car door had barely slammed closed, Derek jerking at the loud slap of noise, when panic set in. His chest collapsed as his head dropped. "They didn't say your face," Derek was saying, speeding towards the road, "it's alright."<br>"It is _not _alright," Jackson exhaled vehemently.  
>"It's fine," Derek returned, the words gritting out over the air.<br>"No it isn't!" Jackson nearly shouted, clutching at his hair.  
>"Jackson," Derek said with a calm that was clearly forced.<br>"I said your name!" Jackson cut him off roughly. "I said your name and now they know who you are." Derek was perfectly silent. Shock rolled through the empty space between them. The engine whined in protest as Derek forced the car even faster.

Derek parked on the street and Jackson barely had time to wonder how Derek had known where he lived in the first place before he was yanked out of the car by the back of his neck. He cringed, trying to determine how to best apologize. He thought that maybe there was no apologizing for this. Maybe Derek would kill him. Was it possible to kill your mate? He stumbled as Derek yanked him up the stairs. He hadn't even realized they were inside. Derek went into Jackson's room, still pulling him along. He finally dropped Jackson's neck, closing the door behind them and locking it. He went to both windows and looked out the navy curtains before checking the locks and exhaling. Derek turned to Jackson after a moment.  
>"Pay attention to what I'm saying Jacks. The hunters already know who I am. You didn't do anything wrong," he stepped closer, arms wrapping around Jackson and pulling him close, "you saved my life." Jackson sagged into him, unsure why he was comforted by the proximity. "You need a shower," Derek said eventually.<br>"Yeah," Jackson agreed hoarsely, stepping back.  
>"I'm going to go make sure we weren't followed and hide my car," Derek murmured, hands lingering on Jackson's shoulder and back.<br>"You're coming back?" Jackson questioned, shocked. Derek blinked once, twice.  
>"Yeah."<br>"O-Okay."

Jackson tried not to think about it…he really did. But Derek had saved his life and then they'd pretty much cuddled and then when he just held him, how did he know that was exactly what Jackson needed? He was already in the shower and he kept thinking about Derek. One hand curled against the tile, chilling his skin on contact. He inhaled deeply and held it before letting it slip back out between his teeth. It wouldn't hurt anything, right? He teased a hand down his stomach, over the slicked skin, eventually losing all pretense and wrapping a hand around his half hard cock. Sparks went off behind his eyes and he heard the bathroom door open. Derek gasped at the first stroke, pausing. Jackson glanced the shape of him through the blurred glass, under half lidded eyes. He stroked again, biting his lip. He wanted… He wanted Derek. But he couldn't ask. Maybe there was an alternative. He focused on Derek, inhaling shortly. He wanted Derek to feel what he felt. He wanted the connection open between them. In the next moment Jackson wondered if Derek had somehow helped him because he could feel him. It wasn't like before. Instead it was much like his silhouette. There but not clear. Maybe this was what it felt like when he let Derek in but Derek didn't let him in. Jackson pushed the thoughts away, aware that he would never ask, and stroked again. His fingers closed over the head for a moment, squeezing before sliding back down. A pant slipped from Derek's lips. His frame moved, leaning against the wall. Jackson let his eyes close, keeping the feel of Derek in mind as continued. It should have been weird, with Derek watching. Maybe it was.

Derek left the bathroom as Jackson recovered. His hand was still shaky as he shut the water off and climbed out. Wrapping a towel around his waist he headed back to his room. He thought about school for the first time and winced. Problems for later. Derek was lying in his bed, ankles crossed, leather jacket tossed over one of the bottom posts. As if it was his room. Jackson had to pause a moment, just trying to keep up. This man had attacked him. He'd hurt him more than anyone else in his life ever had. Yet here Jackson was welcoming him in and worrying about his safety and pulling bullets out and having sex with him and letting him into his mind. It was nauseating. Here he was having feelings for this man. They were gentle and weak yet, but ever growing. Thin nimble roots that had all the time in the world. He turned towards his dresser and let the towel drop to the floor before pulling on clean boxer briefs. "How do I close it?" he questioned, shutting the drawer and keeping his eyes on the polished oak. He hated the idea that Derek had just gotten a front row to that…just all of that.  
>"You can feel it," Derek said after a moment, "almost physically. Just shut it. Like a door." Jackson's eyebrows drew together in concentration. He focused on Derek again and then slowly pushed him away. He didn't know about closing it like a door but he just kept pushing and focusing until he couldn't feel Derek there anymore. Then he let his shoulders drop and turned. "Why did you let me in?" Derek asked, not looking at him. Jackson shrugged instinctively, even though he knew Derek wasn't watching him.<br>"Don't know," he muttered, crossing to the bed and getting in. He half wished he hadn't. Seemed like a really stupid idea now.

_A/N: Sorry about that little Jerek detour… I didn't really mean to. But I did introduce the hunters (partly) so yeah. We'll just say it was sort of necessary. Back to Halinski next chapter…before more angst. If everything goes according to plan._


	23. XXII: Separation

"Why do you wear so many layers?" Peter questioned, slipping Stiles' shirt over his head. Stiles flushed before shrugging.  
>"Don't know. You don't have to help me dress ya know." Peter simply smiled, holding out a plaid button up. Stiles slid one arm into it and turned before sliding the other in. Peter folded down the collar, fingers lingering at the base of Stiles' neck.<br>"It's only fair," he murmured, "if I'm going to help you undress later." Stiles swallowed audibly. He pulled a blazer out of the closet at random, letting it dangle from one finger. "It's supposed to be chilly today."  
>"I'm a werewolf," Stiles said, looking moderately recovered.<br>"You're wearing the collar," Peter reminded him softly.  
>"Right," Stiles muttered, teeth clicking. He took the blazer and pulled it on as well. "Do I meet your approval?" he questioned cheekily, arms spread before he spun slowly.<br>"You look better naked in bed," Peter murmured, "but I suppose you'll do." Stiles flushed beautifully and Peter couldn't help a smile. "Don't want to be late," he murmured, a bit more teasing then.  
>"Surprisingly enough tardiness has never been high on my list of concerns."<br>"Ah but _now _you need to keep from drawing attention to yourself." Peter picked up Stiles' book bag from where he'd dropped it by the door. He offered this to Stiles as well. "So off to school." Stiles pouted.  
>"What are you going to do all day then?"<br>"Many scintillating things you would greatly enjoy, such as going to the bank and grocery shopping."  
>"You're still not funny," Stiles groused.<br>"I don't have to be." Stiles' forehead puckered. He was right about that.  
>"Fine, fine," he let out, taking the book bag and jerking it onto his back. "I'll see you later then." Peter cleared his throat as Stiles turned to go. Stiles paused and looked back to see Peter pointing to his cheek. "Wait really?" Stiles demanded, squinting at him. Peter simply arched an eyebrow in response so, with flaming cheeks, Stiles leaned back and pecked his cheek quickly. He rushed out of the room and stumbled down the steps, an idiotic smile on his face and his heart beating just a bit faster.<p>

…

Peter lingered in Stiles' room longer than strictly necessary. It had been a light morning and seeing as the entire room was blanketed in Stiles' scent it was hard to leave it behind. Shaking his head slightly to clear it, he headed out. Peter had only just gotten back to his house when he felt his phone vibrating.  
>"Hello?"<br>"Hey," Stiles said, tone hushed, "Jackson's not in school today."  
>"What?"<br>"Yeah he's not here," Stiles muttered, "I've got to go." Stiles didn't wait for a response. Peter was back out the door before his phone was back in his pocket. He couldn't seem to get to Jackson's fast enough and though panic hadn't officially set in, it did when he smelled his nephew. He didn't pause to think about the best plan of attack; he jumped up and yanked open the window before sliding through.

…

Jackson groaned softly, head digging into the pillow for a moment. The hand at the base of his neck paused before moving again. He breathed in slowly, keeping his eyes closed.  
>"Are you…petting me?" Derek didn't respond, giving one more squeeze before his hand dropped away. "No wait, I'll go back to sleep," Jackson muttered, wriggling a bit closer. He didn't risk a glance at Derek and a surprised sigh slipped out when Derek actually continued. He carefully kept his mind blank, only letting himself think about Derek's hand lifting and squeezing his skin. It was soothing. More than anything he knew he didn't want Derek to stop. He couldn't imagine what had prompted it and he didn't care. "Do you think…" he paused, "do you think maybe we could stop fighting?"<br>"You're supposed to be asleep," Derek reminded him after a long moment.  
>"Okay," Jackson sighed. The room was perfectly quiet and Jackson wondered how long it could last. Derek shifted slightly, letting Jackson's head fall beneath his chin. Something in Jackson's chest squeezed a bit at that. He tried to ignore it.<br>"Sometimes…" Derek said before drifting off.  
>"What?" Jackson questioned. He didn't answer, sliding from the bed and crouching in front of Jackson. Almost…protectively? Jackson barely heard the sound of someone coming up. Jackson hadn't even made it out of bed before Peter was through the window. He dropped into a crouch as well, eyes flaring red as he bared his teeth and snarled. "Wait, don't," he tried.<br>"What are you doing here?" Peter demanded, totally ignoring him.  
>"No Pe-" Derek shoved him back without looking.<br>"I'm with my _mate_. What are you doing here?" Derek returned, finishing with a growl.  
>"We both know you don't care about him." Another growl ripped from Derek.<br>"Can you both quit acting like I'm not here?" Jackson demanded, standing on the bed. They ignored him again.  
>"If it wasn't for me he'd be dead." Peter jerked back slightly, as if the very idea of Jackson dead hurt him. Jackson softened for a moment.<br>"What are you talking about?"  
>"Hunters." Peter straightened, retaining his human form.<br>"Is this true?" He _finally _looked to Jackson.  
>"Don't answer that," Derek snapped, still crouched, still in front of Jackson.<p>

Jackson frowned. He couldn't understand what was happening. Why was Derek… Was he trying to protect Jackson? Was it some sort of power play?  
>"Jackson," Peter growled, demanding his attention again.<br>"You can take my word for it," Derek said, straightening slowly. His nails clicked as his hands curled tight. "I'm not the murderer here." Jackson heard Peter's teeth snap together from across the room.  
>"Would you take my word for it?" Derek shook his head. "Exactly," Peter snarled. "Jackson?"<br>"Don't answer him," Derek repeated. "You're _my_ mate." He didn't sound smug. Jackson didn't know what he sounded like. He didn't know anything.  
>"Yes he's your mate so stop making him chose. Answer the question."<br>"No," Derek insisted again, looking over his shoulder for a split second. His face was totally unreasonable. Jackson couldn't decide whether to scream, cry, or run. It was a horrible splitting feeling in his chest. Literally like each Hale had taken an arm and they were pulling. Peter said yes. Derek said no. There was no middle ground for Jackson to fall to. He couldn't trust Derek…could he? And Peter had taken him in. Peter was his family. Peter had never hurt him. Jackson pressed both hands to his chest, fingertips gripping uselessly. The way Derek held him…  
>"He's telling the truth," Jackson groaned, gritting his teeth. Derek let lose a short howl, nearly pained and turned before launching himself at Jackson. He pinned him to the wall behind his bed with one hand on his throat.<br>"You _insist _on being _completely _useless!" he snarled, teeth bared. Jackson tried to flinch into the wall, finding no reprieve. He was yanked away and Peter's back took his place. Jackson couldn't help but bring a hand to his neck, trying not to remember how gently Derek had touched him just minutes before.  
>"Why does it matter if I tell him?" Jackson demanded. Why was he doing this? Jackson gritted his teeth again. Derek surged forward so hard he shoved Peter's body into Jackson's. He ignored Peter's warning snap totally.<br>"I wantyour _loyalty_," Derek gritted, eyes blindingly blue. Peter shoved him off, snapping again. The brittle sound echoed in his ears. "You're _nothing_." Derek said, face contorting before shifting back to human. "I wasted my time on you," he paused, eyes on Peter. Jackson contemplated covering his ears. "I should have just let you die," Derek informed him coldly. "You smell of your other pup Uncle," he muttered carefully after another second. Jackson could smell Stiles on Peter too. He was briefly glad of the distraction. Derek looked to Jackson again. For a moment Jackson felt searing heat coming from Derek. He flinched. It vanished after another moment and somehow that felt worse. "I would pick the runt. You're worthless," he finished. Jackson closed his eyes, sagging.  
>"Don't listen to him," Peter said, turning and taking him by the shoulders gently. "He hates me, not you." Jackson nodded weakly. Peter had to say that and he knew it. He was okay with that. Family has to lie to you. Stiles would do the same. His heart twisted as he looked up. He didn't fit. Maybe he never really had.<p>

_A/N: I feel like it has been FOREVER since I updated. I really am sorry. But I did know this was going to happen, school has been keeping me very busy. As it is I stayed up much too late to finish this. What I really mean to say is that I really appreciate your patience. _

_And I know Derek is being douchey again but…well…I don't want to spoil anything…._

_Oh and don't worry, the angst train is coming soon for Halinski too. They've been relatively fluffy so far… Hm. _

_Anyways. I feel like there was something I meant to tell you… Now I can't remember. A sure sign I need sleep. _

_Sorry for another long note._

_Thanks. :)_


	24. XXIII: Completion

Peter released Jackson as he stepped away from the wall, watching him carefully. "Are you alright?" He could tell the boy's smile was forced and he wanted to hold him until everything was okay but he knew Jackson wouldn't allow it. "Don't listen to him," he tried again.  
>"No, I-I know," Jackson said, another forced smile. His entire expression was…breakable. Peter examined him again. Even the way he held his shoulders looked brittle. "I just need some time…away from all this stuff," Jackson was saying. Peter frowned. He couldn't just leave him alone and hope that he'd be okay. He couldn't let Jackson try to find his way back on his own. He couldn't do that. "Peter please," Jackson said again. "I just…I'll <em>be <em>okay. I'm just not now."  
>"You're upset," Peter said, "understandably so. I'll stay with you." Jackson only looked closer to breaking with the words.<br>"You don't understand," he said softly, shaking his head. "I can't…I can't lean on you. I need to do this by myself."  
>"What I'm trying to tell you, what you don't yet fully understand yet, is that you don't have to. Stiles and I are here. We are your family. We will help you. We <em>want <em>to help you." Jackson stopped trying to smile. His mouth pinched unhappily.  
>"But I'll never believe I deserve you if I don't stand on my own."<br>"Haven't you been through enough yet?" Jackson lifted one shoulder, expression unchanging. "Jackson," Peter sighed, lifting one hand to his forehead. Any other time the stubbornness might have been endearing. As it was…he wanted to shake the boy.  
>"Look it's fine," Jackson said. "I'm just going to stay here and," his hand moved through the air for a moment, "I'll just…figure it out or something. I'll be okay."<br>"Why won't you let me help you?"  
>"There are other things to worry about," Jackson responded. "The hunters. Stiles." Peter tensed.<br>"You are _both_ mine." Jackson walked to the door, not looking at Peter.  
>"That's not exactly true…now is it?"<p>

…

Stiles gnawed on his pen cap, wondering what was happening with Jackson. Peter would figure it out he knew. He half smiled. Peter. He loved him. He did. There wasn't really any use hiding it anymore. How else would Stiles ever be so…cutesy? He was like, tween chick cutesy. Like Edward Cullen cutesy. The worst part was, he didn't even _mind_. He felt like he felt at the fair in summer, after eating cotton candy all day. It was a good feeling.  
>"Stiles," Scott whispered, sitting in front of him.<br>"Yeah?" he whispered in response, eyes sweeping the rest of the classroom quickly.  
>"Allison says there's hunters in town. She says they're bad news." Stiles sighed and bit his lip for a moment.<br>"As opposed to the _other _hunters trying to kill us."  
>"Hey Allison's family isn't that bad…in comparison."<br>"Hunter…werewolf. _Not that bad _isn't in that sentence."  
>"Just shut up," Scott whispered, clearly not amused, "these guys don't care. They don't have a code. They will go after us simply because of what we are."<br>"Fantastic." He waited a few moments. "So what are we supposed to do?" Scott didn't answer. Stiles didn't know if he simply didn't want to or if he didn't have an answer.

Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin when he caught sight of Peter in his rearview mirror. "Jesus!" he yelled, jerking to look at him. "What the hell are you doing?" Peter smiled.  
>"I simply wanted to be sure you were safe."<br>"I _was _fine. Pre heart attack."  
>"There are hunters in the area," Peter said gravely.<br>"Yeah. Scott told me. He said they're bad news."  
>"Derek saved Jackson's life," Peter did not sound pleased by the fact. Stiles took a moment to evaluate.<br>"That's…weirdly good right?"  
>"It would have been, if he hadn't turned around and told Jackson that he was worthless and he shouldn't have saved his life." Stiles winced. Poor Jackson.<br>"Is he okay?"  
>"He said he needed to deal with it himself," Peter muttered, expression nearly murderous. Stiles sighed.<br>"He _would _say that."  
>"You should probably start driving," Peter added. Stiles cranked the engine and began backing out. "Derek knows you're my mate." Stiles slammed on the breaks and glared at him.<br>"Are you trying to make me wreck?"  
>"I figured I'd tell you fast…like a band aid."<br>"That simile is fucking ridiculous," Stiles growled. "And how does he know that exactly? Are you completely stunted in dealing with people?" Peter issued a warning growl and Stiles huffed helplessly. It wasn't as if he'd ever had control of his mouth.  
>"He smelled you on me." Gritting his teeth Stiles actually backed out of the parking spot.<p>

He began pacing restlessly the moment he entered his room. Peter put up with it for about three minutes before pulling him down to the bed. Stiles huffed out another breath and tried to be annoyed. But it wasn't really Peter's fault. He had legit begged. And if Peter had been begging him…well it would have happened twice as fast.  
>"So…what? Did he say he was coming after me? Did he arts and crafts a serial killerish letter for you? Growl in Morse code or something?"<br>"He didn't say anything about you. He was too busy ripping Jackson to shreds. You're kind of ridiculous by the way."  
>"Shut up, you love me." Peter slid a sidelong glance at him and smiled briefly. Stiles flushed and glanced to his lap. Heat rose and lapped at his skin. "So um," he stumbled over the words, "do we still have to…uh-hide?"<br>"What are you trying to insinuate Stiles?"  
>"Wha-no I um wasn't…I was just asking…"<br>"Faced with imminent danger and possibly death and you are asking me about sex," Peter continued as if he hadn't spoken.  
>"Okay first of all, it was a general sense of curiosity. Secondly, I am a teenage boy."<br>"Yes. Which means you are far too young to be having sex with me."  
>"You're cutting me off?" Stiles demanded, party outraged.<br>"You are a teenage boy," Peter reminded him. Stiles crouched on the bed before tackling him.  
>"I swear to God you are not funny," he muttered.<br>"I think I'm getting better," Peter argued. Stiles growled slightly, leaning down and nipping at his jaw.  
>"Sure you think it's funny <em>now <em>but what if I turn the tables?" Peter's eyes sparked and he smirked.  
>"You can't turn the tables on this one Stiles." Stiles kissed him hard, biting at his lips as his hands raked down Peter's chest.<br>"Oh yeah?" he questioned breathlessly. "What if _I _say no?" He rolled off the bed and backed away, unable to keep from smiling a tiny bit.  
>"I've already said no. So your no is ineffectual."<br>"So you don't want to make me your mate? _Officially_?" Stiles tilted his head back, one fingertip trailing down his neck as if in thought. "I mean…alright. I guess if you're over the whole neck biting thing then there's not a thing I can do about it." He kept his finger sliding down, dragging the collar of his shirt when he encountered it.  
>"You played with matches as a child, didn't you?"<p>

Stiles turned just in time to duck Peter's attack. Peter wrapped his arms around him tightly and kissed the base of his neck instead.  
>"No," Stiles said, struggling not to laugh, "I'm officially saying no. You're too old for me." Lips shaking against his skin as he laughed silently, Peter ignored him. Peter's teeth scraped along the bump of the tip of his spine for a moment too fleeting. He ripped away both of Stiles' shirt without warning. Stiles shuddered. He gasped, shooting to his toes and back arching as Peter gently began pulling the leash off. His tongue laved over the sealing skin and down he went. Stiles shuddered again. "Okay…slow is definitely better." His hands clenched against themselves uselessly. Peter's hands dropped away and his mouth disappeared, Stiles barely registered the leash hitting the floor with a dull sound.<br>"Still holding out?" Peter questioned. Stiles turned and crossed his arms.  
>"Of course. You're ancient." Peter smiled.<br>"Insolent boy." His eyes moved over Stiles slowly. "How should I punish you?" Stiles choked on air suddenly, one hand covering his mouth as he coughed.  
>"Punish?" he squeaked, eyes watering. Peter's smile widened and his tongue flicked out to lick his lips. He walked backwards and settled on the end of Stiles' bed. After a moment, achingly long as Stiles' heart tried to beat out of his chest, Peter pointed to his knee. Stiles snorted, hands falling onto his hips. "I have never been spanked in my life. I do not intend to start now."<br>"I find that very hard to believe."  
>"My parents didn't believe in it," Stiles informed him, smiling with all his teeth.<br>"Well I do so," he pointed again. "You're at five now," Peter said as Stiles stared. "If you want more…" Stiles had no doubt that Peter was serious. Cheeks on fire, he crossed to him. "Pants off," Peter ordered, sobering his expression.  
>"Can't believe I'm doing this," Stiles mumbled. He opened his jeans and shoved them down, stepping out and squawking in protest when Peter yanked him down. "Crotchety are we?" he snipped, trying to find a comfortable position. Peter slapped him quickly, hard, and Stiles went still. Peter took advantage of this and slid his boxers off. Stiles was still trying to come back to Earth when Peter slapped his ass again. He bowed under the pressure, gripping at Peter's leg and groaning. He kept his head down so Peter wouldn't see his face, not that it really mattered. Peter smoothed his hand over the hot flesh unexpectedly.<br>"Couldn't have you out running through the woods," Peter murmured, "not with hunters around."  
>"You were ah-" Stiles cut off as he received another smack, "thinking about that?"<br>"Of course." He smacked Stiles harder. "This was Plan B. I really worry about your opinion of me Stiles." Stiles mostly ignored him, rolling his hips in search of friction. Peter smacked him again before pulling him up by the hips.

Stiles found himself straddling Peter. After a moment he realized that Peter had grabbed the lotion at some point. He threw his body into Peter's as Peter slid a finger inside. His backside was burning hot and he couldn't say he minded the extra sensitivity. It wasn't like it would last long anyways. He kissed him, slowly pushing his hips back onto Peter's hand. It felt like an eternity before Peter was finally inside of him. Denim and the cold of Peter's zipper brushed Stiles' skin and he shivered, pressing even closer. Peter seemed content to let him control the pace for a while, paying attention to his neck. Stiles couldn't help a long moan when Peter took hold of his hips and yanked him down. Peter turned them both and dropped Stiles to the bed before swinging one of his legs out of the way and thrusting in again. Stiles whined at the change in positions, hands fisting in the sheets. Peter didn't give him a chance to get used to it, driving deeper before he'd even caught his breath.  
>"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Stiles let out, "Peter, wait, I'm gonna," he didn't even get a chance to finish the sentence before he was gone. Peter paused and Stiles groaned as his knot swelled. He swatted at him halfheartedly. "What the hell?" Peter smiled.<br>"Don't worry. We're not done." Peter stroked his cock, which was still half hard. Stiles moaned, eyes closing.  
>"It's too soon…God…Peter," he gritted his teeth. The skin was oversensitive but still began to draw tight. Peter smiled cockily, hips rocking shallowly as he stroked faster.<br>"Teenage boy," he murmured. Stiles gritted his teeth as another moan slipped out. He pulled himself up before wrapping an arm around Peter's neck and pulling him down.  
>"If I didn't love you so much," he muttered, chest tightening as Peter froze. Peter kissed him before he could verbally flail into an even worse situation.<br>"I love you too," he whispered against Stiles' neck. Stiles smiled, eyes closing as his arms wrapped around his neck and back, pulling him close. He gasped as Peter began moving again, crying out when Peter bit into his neck. Heat spread through him in thick waves. He bent his head to Peter's shoulder, biting right through the shirt and skin.

Stiles felt warm when he woke up. Peter was wrapped around him, half on top of him, sleeping soundly. A glance to the clock revealed it was four in the afternoon. Stiles frowned thoughtfully. Passed out then. He smiled to himself for a moment. He inched out of bed and yanked on jeans before going to the bathroom. He checked his phone as an afterthought when he got back. One missed call and once voicemail. Stifling a yawn he listened to it.  
>"Hey Stiles," Jackson sounded tired and Stiles sighed to himself, "just wanted to make sure you're okay and that Peter got to you. Guess I'll try him." He moved to his dresser and pulled on a shirt before going downstairs and out the door. He'd check on Jackson and hopefully be back in bed before Peter had fully recovered. Stiles had a lot of bragging planned.<p>

_A/N: Dun dun dunnn..! Sorry..I'm really like REALLY excited for next chapter. Been planning for like a really long time lol. And hopefully it will be up soon..? *sigh* So many stories. So much homework. I really do need a clone. _

_Thank you for your patience.  
>And reading or reviewing or messaging me or whatever! I appreciate it all so thank you!<em>


	25. XXIV: Destruction

*ANGST WARNING*

Stiles noted the empty driveway with a vague interest before glancing around quickly and scaling up to Jackson's window. The house was perfectly silent and Stiles ignored his twinge of unease, slipping into Jackson's room and looking around.  
>"Jackson?" The only answer was the echo of his voice off the walls. It occurred to him then that this was at least a little strange. His heart thumped harder in his chest. Light crept from under the closed door to his left. Stiles crossed to it, hand slipping on the wood as he pushed it open. There was a clang of sound as the door hit something but Stiles' eyes couldn't move from the hand hanging over the edge of the tub, dripping red.<p>

…

**15 Minutes Earlier  
><strong>The motion of Derek's muscles was smooth, practiced and easy as he swung the ax. The charred door didn't put up much of a fight. There was a slick stab of pain and he paused. _Jackson_. His mouth curled in a frown. Probably just some poor attempt at revenge. Derek growled slightly and swung again. It wasn't his fault. He'd been up against an _alpha_ and the only thing he had to stand on was his mate. But his mate was loyal to that same alpha. Derek had lashed out. Maybe on some level he knew it was wrong. He wasn't letting himself focus on that. He dropped the ax when his arms swelled with pain and he jogged up the back steps for a beer. Stabbing pains lit up his torso and he wondered how exactly Jackson was doing it. Was he cutting? DIdn't kids do that these days? He felt another twinge of guilt and took a longer swig of beer. What _was _his mate doing? The stabs stopped and Derek blew out a quick sigh of relief. Lifting the brown bottle for the last of the beer he tried to decide what to do next. It was when the glass slipped from nerveless fingertips and crashed to the floor that he paused again. Each forearm was alight with pain. An angry, thick line of red stood out on the pale underside of skin.  
>"He'll heal," he muttered, before his mind actually caught up with the words. "He'll heal," he repeated then, desperation edging in. It was only another short moment before a stab that left him breathless assured him that no, he wouldn't.<p>

…

Stiles fell forward, skidding in pink water and slamming into the side of the tub. He yanked Jackson up, letting out a horrified gasp at all the silver hilts sticking out of his torso. He hauled him out, trying to ignore the warm water that slopped onto him, making him shudder. Stiles pulled out the knives, six of them, and laid Jackson on the floor before realizing he wasn't breathing.  
>"No, no, no," Stiles pleaded, already feeling a disconnect, already feeling the gaping hole Jackson had left. Chest drawn tight, he fought to remember everything he knew about CPR.<p>

…

**3 Minutes Earlier**  
>Peter was torn from sleep. His heart pounded as adrenaline and fear flooded it. Where was Stiles? Where was his mate? His eyes ripped over the room, as if Stiles would just be sitting in a corner. He stumbled from bed and jumped out the window, feet running before they'd actually hit the ground.<p>

…

Relief so sharp it hurt hit as Jackson coughed up murky water, eyelids fluttering. Stiles yanked him into an awkward hug, sighing with Jackson passed out. He could hear his heart now. Damaged, not dead. That, Stiles could deal with.  
>"Stiles," Stiles sighed again, head sagging to Jackson's shoulder.<br>"Here," he exhaled, "in here." Peter shoved through the door roughly, knocking what looked like a silverware set out of the way. Stiles supposed that made sense. "He's alive," he said, much calmer than he felt.  
>"What the hell happened?"<br>"I think he tried to kill himself. I think he got scary close to succeeding too."  
>"Are you alright?" Stiles laughed hollowly.<br>"How am I supposed to know?"  
>"Well, let's get him to bed." Stiles sat in bed next to Jackson and took hold of his hand, unwilling to be away from him just yet. "Do we know where his parents are?" Stiles shook his head. Peter nodded before moving to the dresser and yanking out a shirt. He pulled it on as he paced halfway to the window. "I didn't realize it was so bad," Peter breathed. "I didn't realize."<br>"We were distracted," Stiles muttered bitterly. Part of him know that it wasn't their fault but he couldn't help a flush of guilt. He looked to Jackson again. He could just be sleeping, he looked so peaceful. Stiles wondered how things had gone so wrong in his mind.  
>"Derek," Peter growled. Stiles wasn't sure why until Derek jumped through the window. Peter lunged to him and slammed him into the wall, narrowly missing Jackson's closet door. Derek growled, shoving at him, his blue eyes glued to Jackson.<p>

"I should have killed you the _second _I found out what you did to that boy," Peter said. Stiles' eyes were riveted to them and he clutched Jackson's hand tighter. Derek squirmed desperately in Peter's hold, whimpering snarls falling out of his mouth. "But you were family," Peter continued, calmly, "so I let you live." Stiles wondered if he'd been like this when he killed Laura. He shuddered. "If he dies…" Peter let the sentence hang. Derek whimpered, struggling again.  
>"Let me see him Uncle, <em>please<em>."  
>"No," Peter released, as if the idea was ridiculous. It almost was, but Derek's pain was palpable.<br>"I'll do anything you want. Please Uncle, _please_!" Peter paused and glanced to Stiles and Jackson, Stiles nodded.  
>"The war ends now. No more revenge." Derek nodded frantically, whimpering again.<br>"Yes, yes, please, yes…" he stumbled desperately over the words and Stiles only then realized he was crying. Peter let him go and Derek shot across the room in a blur. He fell next to the bed, pulling Jackson almost totally into his arms. He shoved his face into Jackson's neck, still crying. "God please," he begged, "I'll never ask for anything ever again. I'll never want anything again I swear." He pulled Jackson's wrists up for examination before clutching the healing skin. "I'll never hurt him again, please," he whispered. Stiles slowly released Jackson's hand and crossed to Peter, hugging him tightly. Peter hugged him back as they watched Derek cling to Jackson, who barely clung to life.

Derek didn't move for hours. He sat in Jackson's bed, half on the edge, with Jackson clutched to his chest. He'd murmur into his skin and touch him gently. Derek touched Jackson endlessly. His hair. His hands. His neck. His jaw. His closed eyelids and every so often his wrists or chest.  
>"You should eat something," Peter told Derek.<br>"Not now," Derek snapped, voice ragged. "He'll wake soon. He has to wake soon," he insisted. Peter didn't comment but nodded to soothe Stiles' worked glance. Resting his head on his knees, Stiles went back to waiting. It was maybe another hour before Jackson's eyes opened. He groaned, trying to pull away from Derek. Derek held him even closer, his whole body shaking. Stiles lost count of the 'sorry's watching Jackson's pained expression. "I'll never hurt you again," Derek promised.  
>"I don't want to see you," Jackson whispered. Peter laid a hand on Derek's shoulder and Derek slowly released Jackson. "I never want to see you again," Jackson said, voice gaining strength, "why do you think I tried to kill myself?" He turned on his side, away from all of them. "Just go away please."<br>"Not too far," Peter added, "don't think I've forgotten your promise to me." Stiles thought it was a wonder Derek made it to the window without collapsing. He didn't think he'd ever seen one single person in so much pain. Ever.

It was hard taking his mind off Derek but Stiles forced himself as Peter nodded to Jackson's curled back. He slipped from the dresser and climbed into bed, pulling Jackson into his arms. Peter climbed in too, wrapping his arms around Jackson from the other side.  
>"He's gone?" Jackson questioned quietly.<br>"Yeah, he's gone." Jackson shivered in their arms.  
>"Oh," he murmured, voice devoid of emotion.<br>"Why'd you do it Jackson?" Stiles demanded, staring at the top of his head. "Why didn't you come to us? Why didn't you let us help you?"  
>"Stiles," Peter cut in gently, "not now." Stiles snapped his jaw shut, nodding to himself and inhaling deeply. He leaned closer to Jackson, letting his eyes close.<br>"I'm sorry Jackson," he whispered. "You scared me. Really bad."  
>"'M sorry," Jackson mumbled, face still shoved half into the pillow, half on Stiles' chest.<br>"Okay," Stiles returned, helping Peter bring the cover over all of them before reaching for Peter's hand.  
>"Everything's alright," Peter said, "We're together, we're fine." Stiles repeated the words in his head, relaxing marginally.<p>

_A/N: So yeah. This just…refused to not happen. It literally has been in my head for months. I can for sure tell you this is the Jerek breaking point. It's moving up from here. And nothing too horrible is headed for Peter/Stiles. So this was the last big thing as far as angst goes. _

_And explanation is coming as well. Then the healing can begin._

_So I'm sorry. And thank you for reading.. _


	26. XXV: Motivation

Stiles isn't sure who's awake and who's not when he opens his eyes. He figures maybe it mostly doesn't matter because why Jackson did it is probably still off the discussion board. Maybe he doesn't want to talk anyways. What is there to say? No simple conversation is going to fix this. Whatever _this _even is. Eventually he glanced to Peter, seeking comfort. Peter shot him a tiredly amused glance over Jackson's hair. Stiles pulled himself into a sitting position to see that Jackson was all but curled on Peter's chest. Stiles spiked an eyebrow.  
>"Should I leave you two alone?" Why was he joking right now? Maybe there wasn't another option.<br>"His ties are simply stronger to me Stiles. He can hardly help it and after last night I won't complain." Stiles let his expression soften.  
>"I know you're mine," he whispered conspiratorially. Peter let out an approving rumble. They both froze when Jackson shifted. "I'll see about food," Stiles whispered when Jackson sighed quietly and went still again. He climbed around them carefully. Peter hadn't responded so Stiles was shocked when he was yanked backwards. He landed on his ass on the carpet, groaning in surprise when Peter kissed him thoroughly. Peter released him and Stiles tried to glare while wondering how he hadn't woken up Jackson up doing that.<br>"Good morning," he offered softly, smiling. That was all it took and Stiles was grinning right back at him.  
>"Morning," he agreed. He paused at the door, listening carefully. Apparently Jackson's parents had left for the weekend. Maybe that was for the best.<p>

The kitchen was towards the back of the house on the first floor. Stiles discovered he didn't much like Jackson's house. Everything looked incredibly expensive. It didn't reek of money just for the sake of it but he could tell that everything was so expensive it would probably make him cry if he lingered on it extensively. Not that he'd ever really met Jackson's parents so he shouldn't judge and he had bigger problems at hand anyways. He was in the middle of looking through the cabinets, trying to decide what would be best for breakfast when a quiet,  
>"Stiles," stopped him. He whirled, lips curling in a snarl. Derek didn't react, lips pressed in a resigned line as if he'd expected it. Stiles forced his face back to normal, hoping Peter didn't leave Jackson over his sudden snap of panic.<br>"What?" he demanded, turning back to the food.  
>"How is he?"<br>"Like you care," Stiles shot at him, empathy gone. "Don't you wish you hadn't saved him?" Derek growled behind him and Stiles paused, frowning. He probably shouldn't push him but damn it, what about _Jackson_?  
>"I didn't mean that."<br>"Well then why did you say it?" Derek growled again and Stiles held his ground. He was _not _giving in. Derek's teeth snapped. Stiles could practically smell his frustration.  
>"Because I wanted him to hurt."<br>"I didn't know you were such an overachiever," Stiles muttered. He grabbed a box of Pop-Tarts and turned. Derek's hands were curling and uncurling rapidly and Stiles wondered if he was fighting for control.  
>"You couldn't possibly understand," Derek gritted. His eyes were flaring lighter and darker as well.<br>"No. And you couldn't possibly understand what you've put me through. He was dead when I got here. Silver knives stabbed into his body, not breathing, blood all over the bathroom." The words came out slowly, with a calm he didn't know he possessed. Derek moved forward, almost unwillingly. He stopped mere inches away. The last thing Stiles expected was for him to drop to his knees.

"Fine," he said, as if the word physically hurt him, "whatever you want. Just tell me how he is." Stiles eased suddenly, muscles loosening as he drew in a deep breath.  
>"He's asleep," he answered simply. Derek sagged and Stiles only then realized how tired he looked. "Have you slept?" Why did he care? After a moment Derek shook his head.<br>"I can't," he exhaled.  
>"Why?"<br>"What if he tries again?"  
>"Peter and I are with him. We will take care of him. You should go home and rest, come back tonight." Derek let out a noise that Stiles would describe as a whine if it came from anyone else. "Go," he affirmed softly. He attributed Derek's strange behavior to his lack of sleep and emotional trauma as he watched Derek actually get up and leave out the back door. The thought comforted him slightly as he made his way back to Jackson's room. At least Derek felt <em>something<em>. At least it appeared to bother him. That was something. It had to be.

Jackson was awake when Stiles returned, Peter murmuring to him quietly. It warmed his heart to see them together like that. He paused in the doorway, feeling stupid for the clichéd thought, but there literally had been a flush of heat across his chest. He thought he finally understood where the expression had come from. He smiled softly and crossed the room, rounding the bed to get back to his side. "I brought Pop-Tarts," he offered, holding up the box. Jackson half turned to him and laughed softly.  
>"Pop-Tarts," he murmured.<br>"How are you feeling?" Stiles asked softly.  
>"Better," Jackson answered softly. He pulled himself up a bit before turning onto his back and taking the box. He opened it and slid a package out before settling the box between his body and Stiles'.<br>"Unfortunate as it is," Peter began as Stiles snatched a package for himself, "we do need to talk." Unease seeped from Jackson.  
>"Okay," he agreed meekly.<br>"First of all, good work with Derek Stiles." Stiles choked on the corner of the pastry. He coughed loudly.  
>"Huh? What?"<br>"You took your rightful place as the alpha's mate. Derek is below you."  
>"He's in our pack now?" Jackson interrupted.<br>"Same question," Stiles agreed.  
>"Yes. His relation to me and his agreement to join started the bond. Him submitting to you only solidified it."<br>"Oh," Stiles managed.  
>"So he's in our pack now?" Jackson repeated, breakfast forgotten on his stomach.<br>"Yes," Peter repeated.  
>"So he can't make me choose anymore?" Jackson whispered, wide eyes going to Peter.<br>"I won't allow it," Peter answered.

Jackson's eyes closed and breath leaked out as he sagged.  
>"Oh my God," he muttered after a moment, hands covering his face. "That is just… That is just really, really good to hear." Peter smiled slightly, obviously pleased by Jackson's reaction.<br>"I thought you would feel that way," he said quietly, "that's why I wanted to discuss it first." Stiles' bragging was once again cut short. He settled in closer to Jackson. "You don't have to explain yourself, so long as you know that taking yourself away from us is not a solution." Stiles nearly squawked in disbelief. What did he mean Jackson didn't have to explain?  
>"Thank you," Jackson said very quietly.<br>"Hey, I've been there." It was amazing how quickly Stiles' focus changed. He went from Jackson to Peter so fast his neck cracked in protest. His lips flapped wordlessly as he tried to question what had just been said but was too shocked to actually get words out.  
>"What do you mean?" Jackson questioned. Stiles had the passing thought that he was glad Jackson could still talk.<br>"When I was in the hospital, healing by dragging inches…I didn't want to live anymore. Nearly all of my family was gone. For all intents and purposes I was a breathing vegetable. I couldn't speak or look after myself. I couldn't walk. It was not a good time for me. The nightmares…" Peter drifted, one hand reaching to his forehead as his eyes closed. "Have no doubt that had I been able, I would not have lived. It was only the paralysis keeping my body hostage that kept me alive. In some ways…I wish I had been able…but that is _not _your situation," he said to Jackson severely. Jackson managed a nod. "It is only what happened after I decided to seek revenge that makes me think it could have been better. Because I wish that I had not killed Laura. She did not deserve to die." Stiles reached across Jackson to take hold of Peter's hand. He squeezed reassuringly. "Promise me you aren't still thinking of killing yourself," Peter murmured.  
>"I'm not," Jackson said quickly. "It was only because…I was scared. And I thought that Derek would turn me against you. I didn't want to be the weakest link."<br>"You're our pack," Stiles told him.  
>"You're only as weak as we are," Peter finished.<p>

"That's hard to wrap my head around," Jackson admitted. "Even though I can feel it…sort of. But it's okay now. Derek is in our pack. He can't break me now." Stiles frowned slightly, unsure how much he believed Jackson. Derek was his mate. It had to be more than that. "I won't let him in again," Jackson said firmly. Stiles wondered if it was for their benefit or his.  
>"I'm not going to lie to you Jackson, it's not going to suddenly fix itself. You're still mates. There's still a lot of damage there. But you all answer to me and I promise I will look after you. But you have to tell me if you need help. You can't be ashamed or afraid to ask for it. You're still just a kid and as cliché as it is, we all need help. Without you two…I'd be dead."<br>"I can't really explain it," Jackson admitted on a whisper, "I've just always felt like I should be better. Stronger. Faster. Whatever."  
>"Trust me when I say, sometimes you have to take it a day at a time."<br>"Yeah. I'm gonna work on that."  
>"Good. Now eat your breakfast."<p>

…

Jackson was happy enough to end the conversation there. He shoved all thoughts of Derek away firmly. Derek was nothing. Derek didn't matter. He was still here. By some sort of miracle. Obviously he was meant to be here. He bit into the first Pop-Tart, letting the strawberry flavoring roll over his tongue. He was still here. Derek was nothing and he was here. That was what mattered.  
>"Thank you for saving me," Jackson murmured, turning to Stiles.<br>"Of course I would save you," Stiles said, eyes soft. "Just don't do it again yeah?" Jackson nodded immediately. He knew, maybe more than anything he'd ever known, that trying to kill himself had been a mistake. He was grateful to still be alive. Even with all his problems…he wasn't built to give up. "I don't want to be locking lips with you again, no offense." Jackson chuckled once, embarrassment heating him briefly.  
>"Sorry." Stiles smiled back at him. "I have to clean up," Jackson realized with a frown.<br>"And I have to go deal with the hunters," Peter said, sliding from bed. Both Jackson and Stiles turned to him.  
>"Right now?" Jackson questioned, as Stiles said,<br>"You're going alone?"  
>"Right now I'm going to talk to Chris. We'll see where it goes from there. You two stay out of the woods. Keep an eye on each other." Jackson knew he really meant for Stiles to keep an eye on him. For the first time he thought maybe he needed it. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to have someone to fall back on.<p>

_A/N: Arghh.. I'm sorry for the time between updates. I really am. And next chapter we'll visit with Jackson more just so I can flush it out. I think. Maybe Peter and Chris interaction too…although I'm nervous about that already lol. _

_Anyways. I hope you're still enjoying, thank you!_


	27. XXVI: Foundation

His dreams were a swirling mess. He could feel Derek…almost. It was strange. It wasn't like he was really dreaming. It wasn't like anything was actually happening to him. It just seemed like Derek was…present. Somehow. Stiles shook him awake with a hand to his shoulder and Jackson was grateful. He wondered for a moment how he'd even fallen asleep. The last thing he remembered was Peter kissing Stiles goodbye. He smiled slightly at that.  
>"So I cleaned up," Stiles offered with a gentle smile. Jackson felt his eyebrows go up in shock.<br>"Really? Thanks." Stiles opened his mouth but visibly hesitated.  
>"And…Derek's here to talk to you." Jackson shot up in bed, lungs locking so tight he couldn't breathe.<br>"No," he managed with the last of his oxygen. Stiles frowned, sitting on the bed. Jackson shook his head quickly. "No," he wheezed. He wasn't ready. He couldn't.  
>"Okay, okay," Stiles said, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. "Just breathe. I'll tell him to go." Jackson clutched at his arm even as he said it.<br>"Don't go," he begged after inhaling desperately. "If you leave he'll come in here and he'll…" he wasn't sure how to finish the sentence, how to finish the thought.  
>"He won't," Stiles said softly, "he won't come in." Jackson felt his face screw tight in a mix of fear and shame.<br>"I'm sorry," he said earnestly, "I'm sorry." He forced himself to drop Stiles' arm, hands curling on the sheet. "I'm…not ready yet." Stiles climbed into the bed and hugged him from the side.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that. He could only assume Derek had left. "Have we heard from Peter?" he asked, trying to distract himself.  
>"Yeah," Stiles said, laughing slightly. "He called."<br>"That's funny?" Stiles drew back, pulling a pillow into his arms.  
>"A little. He was trying to text."<br>"No way," Jackson let out, smiling stupidly. Stiles laughed loudly, head falling back in his obvious joy.  
>"He ah- he thinks the green button means go." Jackson laughed too, scooting back to the headboard and leaning against it.<br>"He does know it's a cell phone and not a traffic light right?" Stiles chuckled at that, nose wrinkling.  
>"Remains to be seen," he murmured. There were a few quiet moments as they gathered themselves. "Oh hey so I'm not checking up on you or whatever, even though that's like the whole basis of me being here…ignore that, but I'm just wondering where your parents are?"<br>"Every once in a while they fly down to San Francisco for the weekend. It's where they met."  
>"Ah," Stiles nodded, smiling again, "hotel sex."<br>"Dude!" Jackson's jaw fell open.  
>"What?" Stiles questioned, obviously enjoying Jackson's discomfort. "That's when you get into the really freaky stuff. You know…the whips and," he began meowing like a cat, jumping off the bed when Jackson lunged for him.<br>"You're dead Stilinski!"

…

Derek didn't move when Peter scaled the side of the house and joined him on the roof. Peter crossed to him slowly, taking in the way his arms were crossed over his knees, as if struggling to stay still. He listened for a few moments to his pups wrestling before sitting down next to Derek.  
>"Uncle," Derek acknowledged him, unmoving.<br>"Derek," Peter returned, following his gaze and seeing nothing. "You haven't called me that in years. Asides from the other night."  
>"You've paid your debt," Derek said.<br>"The whole moonlight and mysteries thing doesn't work with me." Derek looked down to his hands.  
>"You saved my life," he admitted. It took Peter another moment to realize that he wasn't looking at his hands at all. He was looking below them. Peter sighed, laying a hand on Derek's shoulder. He wasn't surprised when his nephew flinched.<br>"Give him time. Maybe you didn't really mean to break him but you did. He has to heal now."  
>"I know that," Derek snapped. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I know. But it's like everything inside of me is telling me to go to him and fix it and hold him and make it right and I <em>can't<em>. Because he doesn't want me to. He nearly had a heart attack when Stiles told him I was here." He paused. "He's terrified of me. And I've given him every reason to be."

"Time," Peter repeated. "You're feeling things you don't understand. He's feeling-"  
>"I understand perfectly Uncle. He's my mate. I'm supposed to protect him at any cost."<br>"You care for him."  
>"Of course I do!" Derek spat, shooting to his feet. He paced a few steps away before pausing. "He's strong and loyal…just…fucking beautiful." Peter stared at him for so long Derek turned away, scowling.<br>"The boy's got you completely unhinged." Derek growled.  
>"You don't have to be so damn happy about it."<br>"I do," Peter argued, standing as well. "There are nearly a dozen hunters in town. The Argents won't help us." He stopped barely a foot from Derek, not daring to smile. "I need you with me," he said. He winced, lips curling.  
>"I'm not with you." His eyes didn't drop to the roof again. They didn't have to. "I'm with him." Peter worked harder not to smile for just a second.<br>"Close enough."

…

"God," Stiles panted, collapsing back to Jackson's bed, "why is your house so freaking huge?"  
>"You're just pissed cause you lost," Jackson said, dropping next to him.<br>"Lost?" Stiles croaked. "I did not lose anything." Jackson just chuckled.  
>"Yeah you did."<br>"How so?"  
>"You almost broke my mother's vase," Jackson pointed out, letting his eyes close.<br>"Yeah well I didn't," Stiles returned smugly.  
>"Because I caught it."<br>"Because I caught it," Stiles mimicked childishly. He stuck his tongue out when Jackson smacked his ribs. "Yeah well," he said after another moment, "you're going down next time."  
>"Yeah okay," Jackson agreed dryly. He closed his eyes again.<p>

…

"We can tell them about the hunters tomorrow," Peter breathed, listening to his pack going back and forth beneath his feet.  
>"What can we do?" Derek questioned. "We're severely outnumbered, they can't fight. What can we do?" Peter glanced up to the night sky.<br>"What we can do is be smarter than they are Derek. I still have a few cards to play." Derek arched an eyebrow and huffed out a breath, as if he didn't believe him. Peter ignored it. Derek was with them. For now he'd tell himself that was all they needed.

_A/N: Same as usual. Sorry for the wait. I know it really is heinous. Writer's block and school do not mix. I haven't been able to actually plot for weeks. Hopefully that's over now. _

_No idea when the next update will be._

_Really hope you guys are still out there. Sorry again. _


	28. XXVII: Friction

Both Stiles and Jackson were rudely awoken when his bedroom door swung open.  
>"Dad?" Stiles crowed, falling out of bed and regaining his feet too quickly. The sheriff looked at them both before turning away.<br>"Glad to see you're alive Son. Looks like we need to have a talk." Stiles' eyes rounded.  
>"What? No-okay no. This is really <em>not <em>what it looks like and how did you even find me?"  
>"Scott." Stiles winced at his father's tone before slapping a hand to his forehead. His best friend folded like a house of cards, every time.<br>"Dad I swear-"  
>"Just get dressed." Stiles blinked.<br>"I am dressed." His father turned back, as if verifying for himself.  
>"Oh," he exhaled, "so you're not…gay then?"<br>"Oh my god Dad you can't just ask me like that!" Stiles yelped.  
>"Why not?" the sheriff demanded.<br>"I don't know! Because you're supposed to be sensitive about it or something!"  
>"So you <em>are <em>gay?" His father's eyebrows shot up and Stiles covered his face with both hands.  
>"Dad please," he mumbled.<br>"Uhhhh…bisexual?"  
>"Stop!" Stiles yelled. He covered his ears purely on reflex. "Dear god stop. I am not ready to have this discussion and you do not want to hear the answer anyways." His father didn't argue and Stiles' heart sank slightly. He turned to Jackson. "You okay?" Jackson bit his lip before nodding.<br>"Yeah. I'm…" he sighed, "just go." He waved towards the door. Stiles stared at him before crossing his arms.  
>"Really?" he demanded.<br>"I'm better," Jackson murmured, "really." Stiles nodded before glancing back to his father and gathering his shoes.

His father was perfectly silent in the car and Stiles couldn't help his knee shaking. This was not how he wanted his father to find out that he was not still in love with Lydia Martin. Not in the least. And when his father found out about Peter…he nearly retched. Would he ever be able to tell his father about Peter? There was no way he'd approve. And Stiles couldn't not be with Peter. He couldn't. It wasn't just breathless sappy love. He was his mate. Stiles needed him. God he didn't want to have to choose between them. His throat closed over and his eyes fluttered shut as he tried to breathe. He couldn't have a panic attack right now. The car lurched to a halt in the driveway and his father cut the engine but didn't move. After several painful moments his father shifted, turning towards him. Stiles could hardly look at him, he blinked rapidly.  
>"Dad," he hazarded, voice wavering.<br>"Son," his father returned, forehead creasing.  
>"Just-hold on a sec okay?" Stiles took a deep breath. "I-" he paused, blushing. "I love you. You just need to-"<br>"Stiles," he cut him off, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're my son. That's what matters."  
>"You don't care that I'm-not straight?" he demanded before clapping a hand over his mouth. His father sighed before smiling wryly.<br>"If you love Jackson Whittemore…then you love him." Stiles winced.  
>"Oh god, Dad no. Just…no." His father paused again.<br>"Uh…Scott?" His mouth fell open.  
>"Ew! Dad! No!" He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "<em>Please <em>stop guessing. Let's just take this one step at a time okay?" His father nodded, looking at least a bit relieved.  
>"Alright." He pulled Stiles into an awkward hug, both arms wrapping around him somehow. "You can tell me things," he murmured, "don't make me the enemy." Stiles smiled slowly.<br>"Okay."

His dad let him escape to his room without anymore earth shattering revelations. Stiles did a double take seeing Derek sitting in his computer chair. "What are you doing here?" he demanded on a whisper. Derek flipped his chemistry book closed before glancing to him.  
>"Hunters remember? Peter wants us paired up." Stiles slapped his forehead.<br>"No. No, no. No." Derek rolled his eyes.  
>"Alpha's orders."<br>"No. You can't be here," Stiles protested.  
>"Well I couldn't exactly stay with Jackson," Derek snapped, looking away.<br>"No," Stiles repeated, "my dad just caught me in bed with Jackson!" Derek looked amused for a split second before scowling again.  
>"Yeah we heard."<br>"Yeah well what you didn't hear is that he knows I'm gay and I'm not seeing Jackson or Scott."  
>"So?" Stiles gave it a moment to sink in, throwing his hands out in exasperation. Derek stared at him, brows quirked.<br>"So…if you're hanging around who do you think he's going to think it is?"  
>"Oh," he let out after another moment.<br>"Oh," Stiles echoed mockingly.  
>"Stiles who are you talking to?"<br>"Hide!" Stiles hissed, pointing to the closet. "I'll talk to you later," he called louder, opening his computer only to close it. He pulled open the door, smiling.  
>"Web chat," he offered.<br>"Fast web chat," his father observed.  
>"Short and sweet," Stiles returned before frowning at the implications he'd just made.<br>"Is it a secret?"  
>"Uh…not if you don't ask…" He held up both hands in surrender.<br>"Fine, fine. Just wanted to make sure you don't have any plans for dinner. You, me, and the grill."  
>"Sounds fantastic," Stiles let out. His father nodded.<br>"Good."

Stiles flopped onto his bed and exhaled slowly.  
>"Not a word Stilinski," Derek growled, slipping out of his closet and shoving the door shut behind him.<br>"Yeah I live my whole life just to mock you."  
>"Those are all words."<br>"I'm not gonna make any closet jokes," Stiles mumbled, "it'd only be good if you weren't actually gay."  
>"You're still talking."<br>"Shut up Derek. You can't do anything and we both know it." Derek crossed to the computer chair again and sank into it. Stiles needed a moment to remember that Derek had to listen to him now. He smiled slightly. "You're so much better when you don't talk," he added.  
>"Right back at you Stilinski." Stiles slid his phone from his pocket before dialing Peter.<br>"Hey," he greeted softly. Stiles sighed before smiling again, relaxing immediately.  
>"Hey."<br>"How are you?"  
>"I'm okay."<br>"Your father?" Stiles sighed again.  
>"Okay for now. Jackson?"<br>"I'm fine," Jackson called.  
>"What about Scott?"<br>"He doesn't want our help," Peter murmured. Stiles rolled his eyes quickly.  
>"No. Of course not."<br>"Just stay with Derek alright?"  
>"Yeah yeah." He slid a glance to Derek before turning away. "I wish it was you." Peter laughed.<br>"Hunters first Stiles. Hunters first."  
>"Yeah I know," he paused, licking his lips, "but still…I wish it was you."<p>

Peter laughed again and Stiles let his eyes close.  
>"It's not a good idea. We'd both be distracted."<br>"I'm aware," Stiles agreed dryly. "You don't always have to be so damned reasonable Peter."  
>"Fine," Peter agreed and Stiles could hear his smile, "if it weren't for the fact that you and I being together right now would be a very, <em>very <em>bad idea, I'd wish it was me too."  
>"Alright alright, knock it off," Jackson complained. Stiles smiled again.<br>"Talk to you soon?"  
>"Yeah." Stiles ran a hand over his head. "Hey," Peter added, "I love you."<br>"I love you too." He stared at the ceiling for a moment. "We're going to be okay, right?"  
>"I'll protect you."<br>"Damn it," he half laughed, "just say we're gonna be okay."  
>"We're gonna be okay."<br>"See? That wasn't hard."  
>"Get off the phone before something is."<br>"Oh my god," Stiles snickered, "you are not funny."  
>"I'm not joking." Stiles cut off, sucking in a breath.<br>"I can't decide if that's worse or not."  
>"Jackson's turning green," Peter offered, "I'm hanging up." Stiles didn't let himself look at Derek.<br>"Yeah okay," he agreed. He ended the call and dropped his phone to the bed, closing his eyes.

It was quiet for a long time. Stiles was surprised when Derek spoke.  
>"Hunters without rules are the worst of all."<br>"Hunters like these," Stiles supplied, glancing to him finally. Derek nodded before looking to the floor.  
>"Yes."<br>"Are you scared?" Derek was slow to meet his eyes, mouth a thin line. He seemed to debate heavily before one word slid free of his mouth.  
>"Yeah." There was a beat, Stiles tried to swallow and failed miserably. "You should be too."<p>

_A/N: You guys. I am so so so just so sorry. I really truly am. For many reasons. 1: it's been too damn long 2: this note is gonna be nonsensical 3: this was like a filler chapter, because I'm not ready to introduce the hunters yet :/ 4: it just really has been an insane amount of time_

_So I'm really sorry. There were like three other things I wanted to tell you but I've forgotten. Sorry about that too. Um…if you need to bug me (feel free) hitting up my tumblr is more likely to get a response, I'm on there everyday._

_Thanks so much. I really have no words. _

_*hugs*_


	29. XXVIII: Obligation

"Steaks?" Stiles questioned, seeing his dad at the counter, ripping the butcher paper open. "What's the special occasion?" His father shot him a wink, glasses low on his nose.  
>"You're my son. That's the special occasion." Stiles had to pause in the doorway as his throat tightened. His dad squinted over his shoulder. "Little too thick huh?" Stiles laughed, shaking his head.<br>"No. It's perfect Dad."  
>"You cutting the peppers and onions or what?"<br>"Permission to use a knife? Hell yeah." Stiles went to the sink and washed off the vegetables before going to the knife block.  
>"Don't cut yourself," his father warned softly. Stiles just smiled.<br>"I'll be fine." His father went out and started the grill, turning on the radio as he came back in. They prepared dinner listening to classic rock and Stiles only cut himself once, washing away the blood before his father saw. Dinner was good. Stiles appreciated that his dad was making time for him. He didn't even mind when he had to leave half through desert.  
>"I'm sorry," he apologized again, buckling his gun belt. Stiles waved him off.<br>"It's fine," he repeated, "I'll clean up."  
>"Alright," his father murmured. "Don't wait up. Get your homework done or something." Stiles rolled his eyes. Homicidal hunters and he was supposed to worry about homework.<br>"I'll try my best," he said, mock saluting. His father just shook his head before leaving.

Derek came down and Stiles started washing dishes as he ate.  
>"Dinner was good," he said as he carried his plate into the kitchen. Stiles half shrugged, unsure how exactly to deal with Derek in his house. It was strange to say the least. Once he'd finished the dishes he drifted into the living room to see Derek on the couch watching TV. He nearly did a double take. He took a moment, inhaled deeply, and stepped into the room before settling on the couch. They watched a few movies before drifting up to Stiles' room. He went to the bathroom to change into pajamas and came back to see Derek already settled into his bed, closest to the wall, the side Stiles normally left free. He shook off wondering how Derek knew and got in.<p>

Stiles was warm when he woke up. His immediate response was to smile, thinking of Peter. It was looking down to see Derek laying on his chest that made the smile fall off his face.  
>"Ah…oh…uh, okay," he muttered, trying not to shift. Derek inhaled quickly and sat up. "Were we just <em>cuddling<em>?" Stiles questioned, nose wrinkling. Derek didn't answer for a long moment.  
>"We're pack," he finally said, "it's natural."<br>"Well let's not okay?" Derek shook his head and got out of bed, yanking his jacket on before stalking to the window. Stiles sat up, watching him.  
>"<em>Natural<em> Stilinksi. I can't help it anymore than you can." Stiles frowned as he thought about it. He was perfectly comfortable sleeping with Jackson, holding him even. Peter of course. Derek…no. He wasn't.  
>"Yeah well you're not pack to me. Not yet." Derek turned away from him totally.<br>"What do you want from me?" The answer was immediate.  
>"I want Jackson to forgive you. Then maybe I'll consider it."<br>"Jackson," Derek echoed, tensing. "We have to go," he muttered, turning for the window.  
>"What?"<br>"We have to go," Derek repeated.  
>"Why?" Derek frowned, eyes flaring blue for a second.<br>"Jackson," he said again.

"It's three in the morning," Stiles pointed out, crossing his arms. "Peter is with him. They're asleep."  
>"You're positive?" Derek challenged. Stiles rolled his eyes before pulling his phone off the nightstand. He dialed Peter again. He rubbed at his eyes as the phone rang, frowning when it went to voicemail. Derek growled quietly.<br>"Calm down," Stiles snapped. He got out of bed and crossed to his computer. It was two calls before the video chat connected, black box flaring to reveal Jackson, running a hand through his hair and yawning.  
>"Stiles? What's up?"<br>"Just checking in," he answered, avoiding Derek neatly.  
>"Oh? Jealous?" Stiles scowled and Jackson chuckled. "Sorry, sorry. Nothing's going on, of course. He's still old enough to be my dad." Stiles sighed.<br>"Yeah don't remind me." Jackson winced quickly.  
>"Sorry."<br>"It's fine. Glad you're okay."  
>"Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks for checking up I guess."<br>"No problem. Get some sleep," he added, reaching to close his laptop.  
>"Hey! Uh… Everything…okay over there too?" For a moment Stiles wondered if he was checking on him or Derek. There was no way to tell.<br>"We're fine," he said, just in case.  
>"Okay," Jackson nodded. "Goodnight…Stiles."<br>"Night." He turned to Derek as he closed his computer. "Happy?" Derek just rolled his eyes, looking out the window again.

Derek was awake first in the morning, pacing beside the bed. Stiles could pick up his agitation without even trying.  
>"What?"<br>"The hunters want a meet up. For negotiations."  
>"Okay," Stiles agreed slowly.<br>"Peter agreed." Stiles sat up and ran both hands over his hair, sighing.  
>"Okay," he repeated. He couldn't do anything about it and he knew it. "When?"<br>"We're going while you and Jackson are at school."  
>"What?" Stiles demanded. "No. <em>No.<em>"  
>"It's already done. Get dressed. Can't be late." Stiles rounded on him, wolf pushing out as he growled.<br>"Don't start with me Derek." Derek's chin tilted up slowly and he closed his eyes, exposing his throat and holding both hands out in the classic non-threatening gesture.  
>"Peter doesn't want any extra attention drawn to either you or Jackson," he said softly. Stiles inhaled deeply, forcing himself to relax. Derek slowly looked back down and dropped his hands. "You need to act normal."<br>"Yeah well you acting high and mighty is not helping," Stiles snapped, turning away.  
>"Wouldn't dream of it," Derek muttered in response. Stiles forced his temper down. <em>Derek<em>. Like he wasn't already enough of a problem. As if he hadn't already done enough. Just thinking of what he'd done to Jackson, not to mention the threat to Peter and himself, and Scott, who wasn't even in the pack. He shook his head, forcing the thoughts back. Derek was pack now. They had to stick together. He needed to put the pack first.  
>"If you do anything to jeopardize the safety of this pack, ever again," he began, staring at the wall, "I will kill you myself." He gave Derek a few moments to let the words sink in before he turned. Derek was glaring at him, eyes blue, hands curled at his sides. Stiles widened his stance slightly, just in case Derek was stupid enough to attack him. There was a tense awkward silence before Derek finally forced himself to calm down.<br>"You are the alpha's mate," he gritted out, "I accept your rule." Stiles nearly smiled, barely stopping in time.

He heard a car pull to a stop outside, the engine idled for a moment before a door opened and shut. "They're here," Derek said, leaving Stiles' room without another word. Stiles rolled his eyes before rushing to dress, only stumbling once. He grabbed his book bag and made it out the door in time to see Peter and Derek take off running. He heaved a sigh, stomach turning unhappily.  
>"Fuck me," he muttered, crossing to the Porsche.<br>"Not even if you weren't the alpha's mate," Jackson said when he climbed in. Stiles grimaced.  
>"You're not funny either."<br>"Hey, bright side, if this meet goes bad, Derek's easier to kill than Peter so they'll probably go for him." Jackson seemed to think about this for a moment before frowning.  
>"Yeah or even better Derek turns on us and helps them kill Peter before they hunt us down like dogs at school." Jackson's frown deepened and a couple knuckles cracked as he gripped the steering wheel tighter.<br>"Gonna be a great day at school," Jackson let out, half growling the words.  
>"Pretty much," Stiles agreed, pinching the bridge of his nose.<p>

_A/N: Last filler chapter! I swear I'm actually going to introduce the hunters. Please don't hate me. _

_Still struggling balancing everything but I dropped a class so I really hopefully will have time to write and update. _

_Thanks so much. _


	30. XXIX: Malediction

At the edge of town they slowed to a walk.  
>"How is he?" Derek questioned voice thin.<br>"He's…dealing. How are you?" Derek snorted quickly and shoved his hands into his pockets. Peter watched him for a moment before looking away again.  
>"I'd be better if I knew we weren't walking into an ambush right now."<br>"Yes well we might be."  
>"Very helpful," Derek snapped.<br>"I can't just let them declare open war Derek. I have to at least try to negotiate."  
>"You can't trust hunters," Derek said, shaking his head. They walked in silence for a few moments, ignoring the pointed stare of an old woman across the street. "They already tried to kill Jackson and I." Peter glanced to him shortly again.<br>"I know," he murmured. Derek pulled him to a stop, one hand on his shoulder.  
>"So what if we walk into this and they kill both of us? What then?" Peter shrugged him off, nearly snarling.<br>"And what would you have me do? Our family is already infamous. Any schmuck with Google can figure out that we're not exactly normal. They know what we are. We don't have the option of surprising them." Derek fell back half a step in his uncle's fury, eyes widening. Peter followed yanking him closer by his jacket. "I don't like this any more than you do. And I have a lot more to lose. You keep that in mind." He dropped Derek and tore a hand through his hair, skin wavering briefly as he pushed the change back.  
>"We don't know how many there are," Derek muttered, desperation edging into his voice, "and we're walking in alone."<br>"You'd rather risk our mates?" That stopped Derek short and he frowned. "Stop challenging me," Peter added. "We don't need any friction in the pack right now. Just let it happen."  
>"Let it happen. We might die tomorrow but let it happen."<br>"We might die today. At least get it right."

Peter turned and started walking again, hands curling into fists at his sides.  
>"There has to be someone. There has to be something," Derek called after him. Peter didn't respond and after another moment Derek worked to catch up with him. "We can't be completely alone in this. Surely."<br>"Scott doesn't want involvement and he's a child anyways. I already tried the Argents."  
>"The Argents?" Derek repeated.<br>"Yes I already told you. Don't start with me Derek."  
>"No, the Argents! That's a good idea. They have to help us."<br>"They don't. They won't."  
>"Well we have to try again." Peter stopped again, turning towards him, frowning.<br>"We can't trust hunters," he echoed.  
>"It's better than going in alone!"<br>"Until they turn on us and slit our throats you mean."  
>"Chris seems-"<br>"Chris seems what? The same way Kate seemed?" Derek went perfectly still, heart rate spiking.  
>"What?" he managed, tongue dragging across lips that were suddenly parched. Peter rolled his eyes so quickly the movement was hardly visible.<br>"I smelled her on you Derek." Derek dragged in a breath as his heart continued to race.  
>"I…Uncle I…"<br>"I never blamed you." Derek's eyes widened.  
>"Then why?"<br>"Why what?" Peter questioned quickly.  
>"Why Laura? Why not me? If anyone should have died…it should have been me."<br>"If you had been the alpha it would have been."  
>"Uncle-"<br>"You were young. You made a mistake. We'll deal with it later."

Derek nodded jerkily as Peter set off again. He followed after him, taking deep breaths. Peter stopped again just outside a bar. "You need to calm down," he said softly. "I can't have you snapping in there."  
>"I'll be fine," Derek insisted. "I'll be fine." Peter clearly didn't believe him but he turned and yanked open the door anyways. The bar appeared empty. It wasn't. Peter heard seven heartbeats, not counting his and Derek's.<br>"Don't waste my time," he called out, stopping just inside the door. Derek stopped beside him and it comforted Peter for a short moment. Two men emerged from the back hallway. Another three filtered out from behind the bar to their right, the door swinging shut behind them. Derek tensed but Peter didn't let himself look. "No one else joining us?"  
>"The staff prefers to remain uninvolved," one of the hunters, a stocky man with graying hair, answered.<br>"Why? We're only having a civil conversation."  
>"Don't treat me like I'm dumb Hale. Your boy has a problem with two of mine."<br>"Two of yours tried to kill him without provocation," Peter returned calmly. He forced himself to keep breathing and keep his body still. He had to keep his cool.  
>"You can suck my provocation," another called, mouth sneering beneath his baseball cap. Derek growled in response, Peter didn't move at all.<br>"Shut up Bill," the first hunter growled. "It's not him we have a problem with. It's you." Peter's lips twisted barely.  
>"Me?" he questioned, one hand pointing to himself. The hunter nodded.<br>"You."  
>"May I ask why?"<br>"Kate Argent." Peter frowned, hand dropping. He took half a step forward.  
>"She slaughtered my entire family."<br>"Did she now?" Again Peter forced himself to remain still.  
>"Yes."<br>"You sure about that?"

Peter had no idea how to respond. He measured the heart rates in the room. Normal. Except his and Derek's. "It seems an awful lot of work for one person." He said it casually, as if it was nothing. "Especially with an entire pack of werewolves sleeping inside. She'd have to move very quickly…very quietly."  
>"Are you trying to insinuate something?" Peter demanded.<br>"We would have let you live," he added simply, "but then you killed Kate."  
>"Did you help her?" His vision was edged red. This wasn't going right. Not going right at all.<br>"We won't make any mistakes this time." He was in motion. The hunter was warm and solid between him and the floor and his teeth were at his neck. Peter's jaw snapped open just in time for him to be hauled off by two, maybe three, of the other men. Instead of shoving him back or releasing him, they pulled a gun and aimed for his face.

…

Derek released a snarl just as the gun went off. His hands were barely human as he grabbed the back of Peter's jacket and yanked him out of the bar. He didn't look around to see if anyone was watching and he didn't stop to think, he hauled Peter over one shoulder, holding onto his arm, and ran. He made it to Stiles' house, the closest to the center of town. Derek was so relieved that the front door's lock was still broken he nearly collapsed in the living room. The sheriff must have thought no one would be stupid enough to break into his house _again_. He was mostly right about that. He dragged Peter up to Stiles' room, kicking the door closed and only taking a moment to rest. He pushed Peter into the bed and turned his head carefully, stomach clenching at the sight of the bullet hole that had killed him. Derek didn't have time to sit here. It had already been too long. His heart flinched oddly as he dug his fingers into the hole, tearing more flesh as he dug the bullet out. It seared his skin and he threw it across the room as soon as he could, cursing under his breath. He couldn't let himself think about it. He couldn't. Not when he was alone. Not when Peter wasn't here to tell him things were going to be okay and keep him from losing it. He paced around the room blindly, kicking piles of clothes and a book as his eyes ran over his surroundings without taking anything in. His phone was in and out of his hands a dozen times. He wanted desperately to call for Stiles or Jackson but if they left school early it would be a sure sign that they were pack. Derek had to hold onto the hope that the hunters didn't know yet. He had to do what Peter would want him to do. He slammed his hand against his head, exhaling quickly through clenched teeth. If Peter would just wake up and tell him it was going to be okay. Derek couldn't call them. He threw his phone, not looking where it landed. He kept pacing.

He didn't know how long it was before Peter woke up. He coughed, one hand running over his face before flopping back to the bed. He didn't try to sit up.  
>"Water," he croaked finally, "please." Derek ran to the bathroom and returned with a cup half full of lukewarm water. Peter pushed himself up before taking it. He drank slowly, eyes focused on a blank piece of wall. "Stiles and Jackson?"<br>"Still in school," Derek managed. Peter nodded once.  
>"Good," he exhaled, "good work Derek." Derek rocked back and forth on his heels.<br>"You think they were lying?" he questioned, the words bursting out of him. Peter's eyes flicked closed and he sighed before growling slightly.  
>"No reason for them to be lying." His eyes opened and he looked to Derek after another moment. "Their heart rates were normal," he added.<br>"What do we do?"  
>"Guess you've been living with a lot of unnecessary guilt," Peter said, laugh hollow.<br>"What do we do?" Derek repeated, desperation edging into the words. Peter fell silent again. He dropped his hands to his knees, head sinking down.  
>"Revenge isn't finished," he let out.<p>

…

Jackson's knee was shaking. He was doing his best to control it, the Porsche shook when he didn't, but he couldn't stop it completely.  
>"I'm sure everything went fine," Stiles insisted again. "They would have called us if they needed help."<br>"Yeah you hope," Jackson snapped, Stiles' overly calm attitude making his skin itch.  
>"We'll call them as soon as we get to my room," Stiles said. He'd already said that too. Jackson rolled his eyes.<br>"How are you not freaked out right now?"  
>"I am freaked out," Stiles exhaled, glancing out the window, "but it's my job to hide it and calm you down isn't it?" His glance was back on the glass before Jackson had figured out how to reply. The Porsche shook for a few moments as he forced himself to breathe. They'd call Peter within minutes. Everything would be fine. The mantra in his head ended abruptly when he saw the door slightly ajar pulling in. He jumped from the Porsche, leaving his book bag behind as Stiles shut off the engine. He was up to Stiles' room in seconds, both older werewolves turning at his approach. He didn't have to ask. Their expressions said it all. The negotiations hadn't gone well.<br>"What the hell happened to your face?" Stiles yelled, shoving past Jackson and stopping in front of Peter to turn his face one way and then another.  
>"I got shot," Peter responded simply. Stiles' jaw dropped open and he stared at their alpha.<br>"Why?" Peter didn't answer so Jackson risked a glance to Derek.  
>"What happened?" he questioned, the words barely more than a whisper.<br>"Let's talk about it later," Peter suggested. Stiles dropped to sit with Peter on his bed. Peter lifted his wrist and joined their hands. Jackson looked back to Derek against his will. He swallowed, rubbing sandpaper against sandpaper, before tilting his head back. Derek nodded once.

A very small part of Jackson told him to wait for Derek but he ignored it, grabbing his keys off the seat and reversing out of the driveway so quickly the tires protested. He went straight to his room when he got home, one hand tearing through his hair as Derek scaled the side of the house and forced the window open. Jackson didn't fully know what he was doing. All he knew was that Stiles and Peter needed to be alone. He had to be strong. He could do this. Derek was pack now. What was the worst that could happen? He didn't really know what to expect, couldn't even think of one thing that was possibly going to happen, but he was still surprised when Derek fell into him, crying. One hand fell haphazardly on Derek's back but Jackson didn't realize he was holding him. He simply blinked a few times, reminded himself to keep breathing, and let Derek cry on him.

_A/N: Lol. The things I don't plan… But some Derek/Jackson is planned next. But I also have no idea what will happen. _

_Sorry for the lag time guys I really was supposed to get better but Captivation is being so difficult…I kind of decided to skip it? I don't know. Just…sorry._

_(I should really edit this tomorrow and then post but…oh well) _

_Thank you all._

_I have to go to sleep now._


	31. XXX: Adoration

He had to keep telling himself Derek was pack. Derek was pack now. He wasn't going to hurt him. He couldn't. He wouldn't want to. Right? Right. Derek was pack. Everything was- Everything was _not _fine but he could deal with this. Most of him was sure he'd done the right thing. Peter had died today; briefly, both he and Stiles would want to be together. Jackson had to be strong now. He could be strong. Derek was still crying and for the longest, dizzying moment Jackson had no idea what to do. He didn't know what made him think of it.  
>"Hey," he exhaled, his free hand finding the back of Derek's neck. Derek's breathing cut off suddenly and silence permeated the room. Jackson bit his lip, sucking in a slip of oxygen. "Let me in," he said.<br>"It's a bad idea," Derek denied, head swaying slightly on Jackson's shoulder.  
>"Why?" Jackson questioned gently.<br>"I'm too volatile right now," Derek murmured. Jackson stamped down on his fear, toes curling in his sneakers. "I don't know what I'll do…my instincts," he cut off, shaking his head. Jackson closed his eyes, willing himself not to move. He forced his breaths short and even, gritting his teeth for a moment.  
>"We're pack. I'm your mate. Let me in."<br>"Jacks," Derek managed voice thick. Jackson didn't respond. He couldn't let Derek in first. Not when he was barely staying still. Not when he was barely keeping himself from panicking. All he could think to do was give Derek something else to focus on. It wasn't much but what did he have? It wasn't as if they had anything in common or any fond memories to share between them.  
>"I want to help you," he murmured. It was true. Derek was pack now. He wanted to help his pack.<br>"You hate me," Derek shot back, tensing before pulling away. Jackson didn't try to hold him, worried about how he would react. "With good reason," he added, rubbing at his eyes violently. Jackson willed himself to stay in the present. He couldn't get dragged under now.  
>"We'll deal with that later," he said desperately. "I know we have issues okay? But right now we have to just… We have to be together right now. You need me. I need you. Can we focus on living right now? Please?" Derek's reddened eyes narrowed as he took Jackson in, trying to measure him apparently.<br>"It's a bad idea," he repeated, weakly. Jackson gritted his teeth again. He crossed to Derek and yanked him forward by his jacket, hands clenching in the leather.  
>"I don't care."<p>

Derek was the only thing to catch him. Vaguely he had the thought that Derek was right. It was a bad idea. The grief and guilt pouring out of Derek was crushing. Tears pressed against his eyes and he struggled to swallow. After a few moments he managed to regain his feet again. He stood, catching the back of Derek's neck and pulling him down. Jackson forced his fears away as he kissed him. Derek was pack. He wouldn't hurt him again. Derek's guilt only increased and Jackson kissed him harder, opening himself up and letting Derek in. Derek's emotions faltered, shock flaring into them. He was panting against Jackson's lips, trying to pull back.  
>"Wait-wait…" Jackson didn't bother replying. He kissed him again, pressing closer and pulling at Derek's jacket. Derek's body was coming to life under his hands and Jackson could feel it. Derek couldn't hide from him. Not now. "Jacks please…" One hand skated under fabric, up Derek's ribs and around to his back. Jackson curled his fingers before dragging them back down. Derek growled at the action. "Jacks," Derek pleaded. Jackson paused at that, forehead creasing.<br>"What?" Derek's lips pressed thin and he shook his head. Time slowed and lulled awkwardly as Jackson started to breathe again. He swallowed and blinked once, twice. Derek didn't speak and Jackson could feel every instinct to run crawling across his skin. He swallowed again, hands pulling back before moving to the edges of Derek's jacket and pushing it off his shoulders slowly. Derek released a sound at that. Derek's hands pulled him closer, sprawled heedlessly on his hips. Jackson tore Derek's shirt at the neck, impatient, skin beginning a pleasant burn. Derek growled, the sound well muffled by his chest. Jackson growled an answer without thinking. Derek's eyes flared blue at that and Jackson pressed forward to kiss him again.

They managed onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and loosening fabric, Jackson's skin thrumming with every touch. The connection was alive between them, confusing Jackson as he tried to keep his head above water. There was too much between them. He couldn't ignore the feelings, half of them were his own, but he could focus on Derek instead. The slide of his hand up Jackson's back. The hush of his breath against Jackson's cheek. He opened Derek's jeans carefully, hands inching the denim out of the way. Derek groaned against his lips, stilling slowly. Jackson was reminded suddenly of his first time. He was fairly sure he'd been drunk, the older girl coaxing him along in a darkened bedroom of a party. She'd kept moving, kept him distracted, kept pulling on him. He could do that he thought for a second. He could seduce Derek. Wasn't he already? He looked to Derek, half wishing it was dark, half wishing neither of them could see in the dark. He supposed they never really would have had an experience like that anyways. Derek spiked an eyebrow and watched him, chest rising and dropping as he panted through slightly open lips. For whatever reason, he didn't comment on Jackson's rapidly spiking emotions. Jackson supposed after a moment he was just returning the favor. "Come here," he exhaled, licking his lips. Derek only hesitated for a second. Then he was pressed flush against Jackson, kissing him hard, his hand at the back of Jackson's neck before ripping through his shirt and jeans in one swipe of claws. Jackson gasped and arched as he caught skin. Derek had already frozen, feeling the catch of pain as well.  
>"Sorry," he muttered. Jackson shrugged, a kneejerk reaction. He couldn't think.<br>"It'll heal." He tugged at the ruined layers of fabric, nearly falling backwards but struggling to stay upright.

Jackson didn't let himself focus on the fact that Derek had apologized. He was stumbling out of bed in the next moment, managing to step out of the last of his clothes before he made it to the bathroom. He rooted around in the cabinet until he found some KY, leaving the cap on the sink. Derek had finished shedding his clothes and watched Jackson's every motion. He took the tube as Jackson got back in and Jackson turned towards the headboard before pushing his knees further apart on the mattress. It was easier if he didn't look at him. It felt less strange. Derek kissed the back of his neck and Jackson jumped, he hadn't been expecting that. There was a flare of amusement and Jackson wondered if Derek would laugh. He didn't. Instead he found Jackson's hole quickly and thrust a finger inside. Jackson released a moan, head falling back as he clutched at the sheets. "More," he begged raggedly. He was suddenly, inexplicably desperate to have Derek inside him. The distraction must have been going well if it was all he could think about. "Derek more," he insisted, pressing backwards and nearly growling in irritation. Derek added a third finger but it wasn't nearly enough and Jackson did growl. It was a mistake. Derek's teeth were suddenly sinking into his shoulder, biting hard as he growled a warning. Jackson tried to still his hips, failing.

Derek growled again but instead of cowering in fear and trying to show his throat, as he should have, Jackson just started begging. The need was tight in his gut and he couldn't breathe with it there. He needed Derek. He needed him desperately. Somewhere in the haze of Derek had shoved in and spots danced in Jackson's vision as his body worked to open further than it could. He spread his legs but it was no use. He gave a slight whine and fell against Derek, whimpering as the motion only pushed the knot further in. Derek released his shoulder and lapped at the wound as he panted. Jackson couldn't help another whine at the pain, biting his lip. Derek's hips rocked against his a few times, hardly moving. Derek's arm wrapped around his stomach as the other moved to trace patterns across his skin. His fingers skated across Jackson's lowest ribs for a moment, wringing a gasp from him. "Fuck," Jackson exhaled, willing his body to relax. Derek kissed behind his ear.  
>"Sorry," he said, "I'm sorry Jackson." Jackson was shocked again, forgetting the pain for just a second.<br>"'S okay," he managed, tongue too big in his mouth.  
>"It's not. I'm sorry." Something sank in Jackson's stomach. They weren't just talking about this, right now. Derek's face pressed into his shoulder and he nearly flinched as Derek breathed unevenly against his skin. Jackson thought if Derek started crying again he was going to lose it. His hands fell on top of Derek's. He pressed back into the curve of Derek's body again. Sparks went off behind his eyes as Derek's knot finally settled in at the right angle and he released a long sigh. Words very suddenly were not possible at all and all he could manage was holding onto Derek.<p>

His mate he reminded himself dizzily. His mate. He turned and searched blindly for a kiss, heat flashing when Derek's lips caught his. Jackson moaned into Derek's mouth, nearly euphoric. His emotions were all over the place but that was something to worry about later. One of Derek's hands released his before sliding down his thigh to grip his cock just above the knot. Jackson nearly howled in surprise, barely biting down on his lips in time. It hadn't been like this before. They hadn't been like this before. Jackson didn't know what to do with the information. He was still lost. He pushed thought away again, thinking about Derek. Thinking about Derek's body. Derek's hand stroked up, thumb circling the head of Jackson's cock. He groaned, breaking the kiss as his chin fell to his chest. He worked to breathe.  
>"S-Slow," he gasped. Derek's hand slowed and Jackson regretted the plea immediately. He couldn't help a whine of protest. Derek kissed his shoulder and Jackson could feel his lips curling. He frowned briefly, emotions shifting again. Derek's hips rocked against his as his hand continued up and down. Jackson's hand dropped to cover Derek's and he pulled faster as desperation found him again. Derek let him have what he wanted which Jackson had to admit was a bit surprising. Derek was barely able to move but it still felt amazing and Jackson was rocking back with everything he had, lip tucked between his teeth as he panted for air. It wasn't so bad like this. It was almost…he wasn't even sure he had a word. He didn't know if there was a word.<p>

It was the last thought he had before everything went hot and tight and Jackson could only manage a weak moan as Derek followed him over. He went limp and Derek held him up with a firm arm around his stomach. Jackson just let himself rest, soothed by the connection with Derek for perhaps the first time. He had suggested it and Derek had done it and no one had died. He counted it as a success. Still, it was weird the way he could just reach out and feel Derek there. It was even weirder that-  
>"Oh," he said aloud. He shouldn't have said that. Not out loud. Now Derek knew. He knew that Jackson knew. Derek was still stuck inside him and Jackson really wished he wasn't. This was…horrifying. They were still connected, bodies flush. Derek didn't sever the connection. He didn't say anything at all. The only thing he did was press a kiss to Jackson's shoulder before resting his chin there. The action felt like an apology. There was so much Derek needed to apologize for, but especially this. He <em>cared<em>. Jackson could feel it. And no, no he wasn't supposed to. He wasn't _allowed _to. This was not okay. Sure there had been times Jackson hoped that someday, somehow it could happen. But at the back of his mind he'd always remembered what Derek had done to him. He'd always known it wasn't actually possible for Derek to harbor any feelings for him. But now… Now something else had gone wrong between them. Derek cared. Jackson didn't know how he was supposed to deal with that, not on top of everything else. He reminded himself to breathe. Peter would know what to do. Peter had to know what to do.

_A/N: No editing, late as always, sorry as always, please don't hate me, okay bye._


	32. XXXI: Affirmation

Peter was silent for so long. But Stiles didn't know what to do so he stayed sitting next to his mate, one arm wrapped around his, their hands intertwined. He said his name over and over, softly breathed the syllables. He didn't shout even though there was no response. Peter was a werewolf. He heard him. No need to yell himself hoarse. Stiles had the feeling that whenever Peter came out of this thing he was going to need his voice.  
>"Peter please," he breathed, "you're scaring me." Still no response. Stiles sighed, held him tighter, and waited. It wasn't much longer before Stiles began to tremble. The need to hold still was suffocating him but he knew he couldn't leave Peter. He had to be here because Peter was going to need him. He heard his father's car roll into the driveway and Stiles huffed out a quick breath. It was probably too much to hope for that his father wouldn't want to talk to him. Today of all days. Stiles rolled his eyes. "Peter come on," he hissed, tugging at him. Nothing. Stiles gritted his teeth and waited, listening to his father's feet as they moved to the door. The door creaked open and his father entered, closing it behind him before hanging his jacket and sighing.<br>"Stiles!" he yelled, "You want pizza for dinner?"  
>"Uh, yeah Dad, sounds great," Stiles hollered back. Peter still hadn't even moved and for the first time fear crawled over Stiles. What if he was comatose again? What if somewhere in his brain wires had crossed the wrong way and he never woke up? Stiles shook himself. He was being paranoid.<p>

He slowly untangled their hands and flexed his fingers before pulling Peter to look at him. "Come on old man," he whispered, "you gotta give me something here." Peter still didn't move. He didn't even actually look at him. It was like looking at a photograph. Stiles pressed their foreheads together for a few short moments before kissing him almost desperately. Like kissing a statue. Stiles sighed and cupped Peter's jaw. "I'm going to go play family with my dad okay? I will be right back." He was loath to leave his mate just sitting there, wincing at the way Peter seemed to slump when he was released. Stiles stalled again before finally exiting his room.  
>"How was work?" he questioned, purposely stomping slowly down the stairs.<br>"Great," his father replied dryly, "got a cat out of a tree and everything."  
>"Mrs. Cohen?" Stiles questioned. His father simply nodded, grabbing the phone off the wall,<br>"Mrs. Cohen," he agreed as he crossed to the fridge. "Pepperoni and pineapple?" his father questioned, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder.  
>"Yup sounds good," Stiles answered, shoving his hands in his pockets.<br>"Great." His father turned back to the fridge to finish ordering and Stiles' stomach dropped as he heard his window scrape open upstairs. He didn't bother making any stupid excuses, he turned and ran. Of course by the time he got there the room was empty and ice shot through his heart as he struggled to breathe. Where would Peter go? What was he thinking? Stiles gulped in a huge lungful of air before he could start panicking. He launched himself across the room and out the window, running as soon as he hit the ground.

He couldn't see Peter but he could smell him and Stiles inhaled deeply, committing the scent to every part of him. Tracking him was easy enough. After the first twenty miles Stiles stopped trying to catch up and simply worried about following him at all. Peter was faster than him but he had to stop sometime. The path made no sense it wove back and forth and Stiles didn't know if Peter was trying to lose him, not going to happen, or if he'd just snapped. Stiles bit his lip and blood pooled on his tongue without warning. That couldn't have happened. Peter was fine, he had to be fine. There was no other option. After everything their rag tag pack had been through certainly they could withstand killing a few hunters. Stiles' feet nearly stumbled at the thought. _Killing _a few hunters? Something grim tightened in his chest. Yes. Yes he wanted to kill them. He wanted to kill them for doing this to Peter. Even for doing this to Derek. Stiles imagined for a moment if this pack of hunters had never found the Hale family. How would he and Peter have met? His heart clutched and he did stop then, panting for oxygen. Sweet, charming Peter. Maybe even sweet, non-creepy Derek. Jackson and he would probably still be mortal enemies and that was regrettable but the rest of it… God the rest of it sounded good. He shook his head and willed the pain out of his chest. That could never happen. It was pointless even to think about it. He swore quietly before taking off again. _Don't think, just run. Don't think, just find him. Just help him. _It was well past sunset that Peter finally slowed and Stiles finally found him on a felled tree. Peter didn't look up as he approached. He didn't even move. Stiles paused and sighed. He let his hands curl and open several times, chest rising and falling.  
>"Peter," he tried again, shocked at how ragged his voice was.<br>"What am I going to do?" Peter whispered. He turned to Stiles finally and Stiles nearly wished he hadn't. Peter's eyes were wide and glassy and he looked so _lost_.

"I killed Laura to get revenge. I killed my own _blood _Stiles. And it was for nothing!"  
>"It wasn't for nothing," Stiles argued, crossing to him. "So we're not finished yet. That's all."<br>"Not finished," Peter let out slowly. He squinted at Stiles as if he was suddenly speaking Latin.  
>"Not finished," Stiles repeated. "I'm not letting them get away with this. <em>We're <em>not letting them get away with it."  
>"There's too many of them," Peter denied softly, "I'm supposed to keep you all safe…"<br>"And what? Fight them yourself? I don't think so Peter." Peter tore a hand through his hair, letting out a growl.  
>"It's too dangerous. What if I snap on you? What if you have to worry about me <em>and <em>the hunters? You think Derek and Jackson will be enough? They're _so_ stable as it is."  
>"Stop it," Stiles snapped, letting loose a growl of his own. "I know you're freaking out here and I get that but now is not the time. When we put them in the ground you can run around in a fucking Hawaiian shirt with a rainbow mowhawk and I promise I will still love you but <em>when we put them in the ground<em>." Peter pushed off the tree, invading Stiles' space easily.  
>"And what if I kill you myself?" he questioned softly. His hand crept up Stiles' throat slowly, gripping just under his jaw. Stiles swallowed, mostly just to push out against Peter's hand and see what he would do. Unsurprisingly, Peter's hand only tightened.<br>"Don't know," Stiles admitted slowly, "you going to?"  
>"Don't know," Peter echoed on a whisper.<p>

Stiles moved slowly, achingly slowly. He drew his hands up and slid them along the muscles of Peter's back. They twitched and jumped under Stiles' exploration and he couldn't help a soft exhale. "I think I've just been playing at sane this whole time," Peter admitted after a moment.  
>"You'll be fine," Stiles told him, forcing his heart to beat evenly. "We will all be fine."<br>"Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe the last threads of my sanity are going to snap before this is done."  
>"You'll hold out just long enough," Stiles disagreed, leaning his cheek against Peter's shoulder, "and then we'll be there to catch you." Peter's hand fell from Stiles' neck and he exhaled shakily before pressing them together.<br>"Promise?"  
>"Promise."<br>"I hope you're right," Peter told him, "because I don't think I can lose anyone else."

_A/N: Ugh you guys. Peter fricking just ugh. He is really, really hard to write. And I feel like I pushed him too far. And then we both lost our minds a bit. So yeah he's teetering on the edge of sanity right now. Go me._

_I really hope this ended up okay because I can't even tell you how many re-writes this chapter suffered. It is honestly sad. _

_Anyone still out there, truly, thank you. _


	33. Limitation

Peter stole a car to drive them back. Stiles looked the other way and decided to ask when he'd developed those skills later. He needed to come up with something to tell his father. He'd been gone for hours. Between sneaking glances at Peter he rested his head against the window and tried not to panic. A story for his father was going to be the least of his worries soon. He didn't even want to think about that though. He didn't really want to think at all. He glanced to Peter again.  
>"How do you stand it?" the words tumbled out as soon as he thought them.<br>"I thought it was rather clear that I don't. Stand it that is."  
>"Yeah you do." Peter was quiet several moments.<br>"I don't. Things happen. We react. We feel. There are never easy answers when bad things happen to us. Just because we're werewolves doesn't mean we are any smarter than humans. Just because I'm the alpha doesn't mean I have the answers Stiles."  
>"Yeah well I'm still in high school and Jackson's a dumbass so you'd better have some at least."<p>

Peter huffed out a quick breath, lips curling for a second.  
>"I'm surprised you didn't throw in an insult for Derek." Stiles smiled shortly too.<br>"I thought it would be pretty obvious that I don't trust his decision making skills either." Peter sobered.  
>"We've both lost a lot." Stiles' smile fell and he nodded.<br>"Yeah."  
>"Maybe insanity runs in the family," Peter offered. Stiles honestly didn't know if he was joking or not.<br>"You are still not funny," he murmured, just in case. Peter dragged him over by the back of his neck, lips pressing against his temple before he was released. Stiles doubted Peter even took his eyes off the road. He returned to his seat before sighing quietly and crossing his arms.  
>"I love you," Peter added quietly, seriously. Stiles lips curled into what was almost a smile but fell more into grimace territory.<br>"I love you too." He tried to be grateful for this moment now. They were still together. They didn't have a plan and for just a little while longer that was okay. He tried to be grateful.

They abandoned the car outside of town and started to jog back, staying close to buildings and trees even in the cover of darkness. Peter scaled the side of the house effortlessly and Stiles followed, freezing just inside the window frame at what was waiting inside his room. He smelled the blood about the time that his eyes searched the room desperately. Derek and Jackson were seated on his bed, Peter had already moved in front of them. Leaning against the closed door was his father, arms crossed. He was still in his uniform, collar tugged loose and he didn't look impressed by Stiles' entrance.  
>"My son totally vanishes," he began with a glance to his watch, "six and a half hours ago. I come in his room to find a wanted criminal and an underage teen. Naturally I try to figure out what the hell is going on, only to have the <em>wanted criminal <em>come at me with glowing eyes. I defend myself." Derek had the decency to look embarrassed, head titled down. "Then the _other one _comes at me. But lo and behold the story doesn't end there. My son returns, through his second story window I might add, with," he eyed Peter speculatively for a few seconds, "a man my age." He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. "Who's going to explain with the minimal amount of bullshit?"

"Peter Hale," Peter offered, stepping forward and offering his hand, "I'm the wanted criminal's uncle." Once Stiles managed to snap his jaw shut he glared at Jackson and Derek trying to convey slow death with only his eyes.  
>"Care to explain why you're in my son's bedroom?" his father demanded, leaving Peter's hand hanging in the air. Stiles winced. This was bad. In fact this was really bad. Apocalyptic? Possibly.<br>"I'm afraid that's a long story," Peter offered. Again, the sheriff looked unimpressed.  
>"Dad," Stiles cut in, "we should talk."<br>"Son. Sit. And so help me god if you're doing drugs…"  
>"Ew Dad no."<br>"If you're doing _anything _illegal," his father corrected and Stiles winced again.  
>"Well technically-"<br>"_Sit!_" A vein started throbbing in his father's forehead and Stiles rushed to his bed, dropping down next to Jackson.

"Your bed smells like sex," Jackson exhaled.  
>"At least I won't die a virgin," Stiles returned at the same volume, grateful his father couldn't hear them.<br>"I can't believe you just made a joke," Jackson breathed. Stiles eyed his father warily.  
>"What else would you have me do?"<br>"Maybe recognize the fact that you're about to die."  
>"It'll blow over," he returned, "eventually."<br>"Look at your dad's face right now." Jackson shot him a significant glance. Stiles swallowed a sigh rather than letting it out. His father did look rather close to committing homicide. Maybe multiple homicides.  
>"Peter's alpha for a reason," he exhaled finally.<br>"Will you two shut up?" Derek gritted, interrupting them. Stiles rolled his eyes and Jackson shifted, elbowing Derek if the low growl was anything to go by. It was somewhat interesting that they'd all reverted to children as they waited for the fallout.

"Perhaps we could sit," Peter suggested then. He still sounded cool and collected and Stiles wondered how he was doing it. Hadn't he just almost had a breakdown? Was he about to go off the edge they'd just been discussing? Was his father in danger? He inhaled deeply through his nose, surprised when reassurance flowed over him. They would get through this. For all his bluster Stiles' father wasn't going to kill anyone. Yeah this was unexpected, and a problem, but they'd have to deal with worse soon enough. They would get through this. At least. "There's really no good way to say this," Peter announced. Stiles couldn't help a wince that took over his entire face. There really was no good way to say this. In fact he could only see this entire discussion going horribly, horribly wrong. His hands curled aimlessly. "I was dying," Peter said carefully, "your son saved my life." Stiles' father blinked once, then twice.  
>"Good start," he allowed, "if you're telling the truth."<br>"He is," Stiles volunteered.  
>"Oh yes because you're trustworthy," was the snapped response. Stiles sulked a moment, ignoring Jackson's smirk.<br>"I will not lie to you," Peter said, the words sober. Stiles' father arched an eyebrow at him in response. "I am sure you are very adept at reading people Sheriff, there is no reason to assume that I will be any different." His father seemed to measure this at least.  
>"So now that I've caught you sneaking into my teenaged son's bedroom you've decided to be honest with me?"<br>"In all fairness you caught Derek and Jackson." The sheriff's head cocked to the side at that, mouth pinching tightly.  
>"Another teenager and a wanted criminal also sneaking around with my son <em>and<em>you is not exactly the best point to make right now."  
>"We are a rather ragtag bunch," Peter conceded.<br>"Which still doesn't explain why you are all here."  
>"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. You wouldn't believe any of us I guarantee it."<br>"If that's the way you feel then I can take you down to the station and we can have the discussion there."  
>"You can try," Peter returned tone suddenly hard. His father shoved off the door, planting his feet as he leveled a glare at them. "These three are my responsibility. I will not be separated from them." His father pointed in sharp jabs.<br>"Those two you can have," he pointed again, "that one is mine." Stiles felt Peter's flash of anger from where he was sitting, shoulders tensing in response.  
>"He's mine too." There was no disguising the utter possessiveness in the words and Stiles closed his eyes even as his stomach curled in pleasure.<p>

"W-Who I belong to is mostly a sidetrack isn't it? Plus there is plenty of Stiles to go around okay?" Jackson coughed and Stiles suspected the sound had begun as a laugh. Though _how _Jackson was laughing right now was beyond him. "Actually you know what I belong to me. Yeah it's the twenty first century now so you just take your archaic bullshit and shove it." Dead silence followed this declaration and Stiles fought the urge to blush.  
>"Please tell me that was not directed at the middle aged man standing in front of me, please," his father let out, eyes closed. He brought both hands up, folding them before covering his nose and mouth. "This isn't happening," he muttered behind them. Stiles forced a shallow laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck.<br>"I just say stuff Dad you know that come on…" Peter huffed out a sigh.  
>"Stiles," he exhaled so quietly Stiles' father could not have heard. It wasn't possible. It must have been the sigh then that drew his attention. He opened his eyes slowly, hands falling away.<br>"Are you…_involved _with my son?" Stiles might have squeaked.  
>"Yes." Stiles' jaw fell open and he shot off the bed.<br>"No!" he yelped, "No he is not! We are_ just_ friends! Really, really good friends!" For three seconds no one moved.  
>"I need a drink," Stiles' father announced. "I <em>really <em>need a drink."

"Oh my god you're so screwed," Jackson let out as the door snapped closed. He was far too amused by the situation. Stiles loosed a growl before smacking the back of his head, hard.  
>"What the hell happened?" Peter demanded, rounding on them. Stiles sat back and let his mate take care of things. He'd already taken the words right out of his mouth. "Explain to me how you two <em>idiots <em>were caught by a _human_! As if we don't have enough to deal with- Derek's recent acquiescence, the hunters who slaughtered the Hale family, and _now _on top of it all the sheriff is right in the middle of everything endangering not only himself but us as well. _Explain_."  
>"We knew he was on the second floor," Derek began, eyes trained on the carpet. "But we were more focused on trying to decide what to do, follow your trails or wait, and making sure we ourselves weren't tracked back here. Apparently he was waiting for Stiles to come back and we surprised him."<br>"That's your excuse," Peter demanded dryly, "really."  
>"We were…" Derek paused and cracked his knuckles just before his head tilted to the side, almost exposing his neck to Peter, "a little distracted."<br>"By."  
>"Things have gotten complicated. Between us." Peter didn't react to the statement. A few moments passed in tense silence.<br>"And how did he manage to shoot you?"  
>"I panicked," Derek admitted after another long silence. "He was coming at Jackson, trying to separate us I guess, and I panicked."<br>"He pushed me out of the way," Jackson supplied, "because he _likes _me now."  
>"Don't try to stir up trouble," Peter said firmly, wiping the saccharine smirk from Jackson's face. "You shouldn't have been in the way in the first place."<br>"I didn't know what to do," Jackson protested, earnest now, "he was just _there _and even if we turned and ran he'd already seen us."

Peter's teeth clicked as he grimaced at them.  
>"You should have diffused the situation. Said you were looking for Stiles. Made some bullshit excuses. Instead you had to give this the worst possible outcome."<br>"Hey no one died," Jackson protested. Peter rolled his eyes before tsking.  
>"No one's died yet. We still have the hunters don't forget."<br>"Yeah that's why Derek's glued to my ass," Jackson complained.  
>"Can I take the bullets out now?" Derek interrupted. Peter's eyes narrowed.<br>"_Bullets_?" Derek lifted one shoulder in response. Another click of teeth. Another grimace. "And you?" Peter added, looking to Jackson.  
>"Just the one."<br>"What a relief." Stiles flopped back on his bed, covering his eyes with both hands.  
>"Why did you have to tell him we're together? Why Peter?" he moaned.<br>"Lying about it now would only have made it worse later and you know it," Peter told him impatiently. "Now will you help Derek?"  
>"You help Derek," Stiles snapped, "I'll help Jackson."<br>"Oh no. Jackson and I need to have a chat." Stiles peeked through his fingers to see Jackson's shoulders tighten. Peter crooked a finger and Jackson blew out a sigh before following him into the hallway.  
>"I can get the one in my thigh," Derek said, tugging off his jacket slowly. "There's another in my right shoulder."<br>"You're lucky he didn't kill you," Stiles grumbled, sitting up.

When Stiles' father returned, bottle of brandy in hand, Derek was laying on down on the bed, shirtless. The sheriff only sighed.  
>"Son what are you doing?" Stiles spared him a glance.<br>"I'm taking the bullet out Dad." There was a heavy sigh.  
>"Why are you taking the bullet out? Doesn't he need the hospital?"<br>"No he doesn't need the hospital," Stiles said, hoping to leave it at that.  
>"<em>Why <em>doesn't he need the hospital?" Stiles could actually hear the wince.  
>"Because he doesn't. He's a tough little trooper. Aren't you Derek?" There was only a grunt of response as Stiles' fingertips finally grasped the bullet, giving it a tug only to slide off in the slick of blood. "Damn it," he muttered, pushing in again. He jumped when his father tapped his shoulder with a pair of tweezers. "Uh. Thanks." His father took a swig of brandy before dropping into Stiles' computer chair.<br>"I have an idea," he announced. Stiles clicked the tweezers experimentally before glancing to him.  
>"Okay," he allowed when it became clear his father wasn't planning on continuing.<br>"I'm going to finish off this bottle and pass out in bed and tomorrow you can tell me this was all some sort of hallucination."  
>"As much as I would love that Dad you still have three bullets missing from your gun."<br>"Four," his father corrected.  
>"What?" Derek gave an impatient huff beneath him as Stiles looked back to his father yet again. His father gestured to the window, where a bullet was embedded in the sill.<br>"Four," he repeated.  
>"Alright four," Stiles agreed darkly before going back to work.<p>

Stiles had loosed the bullet from Derek's tugging flesh, Derek giving a sharp hiss, before his father spoke again.  
>"And would you," he paused, eyeing the bottle of booze in his hand, "would you need the hospital?" Stiles wondered if his father really knew what he was asking.<br>"No," he said finally, "I wouldn't."  
>"What happened?" was the next question. "When did you start lying to me about every aspect of your life? What the hell is going on right under my roof? I thought you were going to open up and tell me what was happening- I thought we were going to be okay but now this? Stiles what the <em>hell <em>is going on?" Stiles tossed the bullet in the trash before setting the tweezers on his dresser and grabbing a shirt to wipe the blood off his hands.  
>"How drunk are you?" he questioned.<p>

…

Peter didn't speak. He let Jackson squirm a bit instead.  
>"Things have gotten complicated," he said eventually, not quite making it a question. Jackson sighed and gripped his hair, gritting his teeth as Peter sought out the bullet.<br>"I don't get why I'm in trouble," he huffed out, "I haven't done anything wrong."  
>"You're not in trouble," Peter countered, mouth pinching as he grasped the bullet.<br>"Well you pulled me aside to talk to me," Jackson pointed out, gasping as Peter's claws extended.  
>"The bullet," Peter explained expression apologetic. He pulled it out before letting it clink into the sink. "I pulled you aside because it's become obvious that Derek is…confused. I want to know how you're feeling about it."<br>"Derek's pack," Jackson offered first, averting his eyes. Peter nodded, waiting. "I'm sort of starting to…not hate him completely," Jackson admitted on a whisper. "And I don't know-I don't know why that is. Because he…" Jackson paused, inhaling slowly. He closed his eyes, hands curling on the edge of the sink he was still leaning against. "He raped me." He paused again and Peter wasn't sure if it was because he was waiting for a reaction or it had simply been difficult to say. Maybe it was a mix of both. "And then he pulled and twisted. He _tortured _me. I almost died." Another pause. Another inhale, shakier this time. "I almost died and it's his fault. It's not _fair_. It's not fair that he's doing this to me Peter. How can I hate him if he's starting to- If he's being- I have to hate him," Jackson declared, expression fierce. "I can't not hate him. But I can't stop it either. And it's so fucked up." He exhaled shakily before closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I don't know what to do. This wasn't supposed to happen."  
>"I know," Peter agreed, tugging him into a hug.<p>

Jackson clung to him and for the first time Peter regretted forming this pack. If he'd laid down and died like he should have none of this would have happened. Derek would have had his rightful revenge. He would never have touched Jackson. Jackson never would have tried to kill himself. And Stiles. Stiles wouldn't be in the other room trying to explain to his father about werewolves. Stiles' life wouldn't be in danger. Neither would Jackson's. They would both be safe. His pack would have been better off if they had never formed. He could have figured something else out. There were always options. Even when it seemed like your back was up against the wall. He should have done something different. "I'm sorry Jackson." Jackson sighed softly; chin rocking against Peter's shoulder as he shook his head again.  
>"It's not your fault."<br>"Yes it is. I was supposed to protect you."  
>"You did. He can't hurt me anymore." He was trying so hard to be brave. Peter wondered how real it was. "There's only the memories now," Jackson admitted with a flash of honesty. Peter took a step back and met his eyes. <em>There's only the memories now<em>. The statement settled into his chest and sank down, latching onto him. Just like his family. Just like killing Laura. Only memories now. But that didn't make them any less powerful.  
>"Are you going to be okay? Going forward?"<br>"You mean with the hunters?" Jackson almost smirked. "I'll be fine. I don't want Derek dead. I don't want to owe him anything."  
>"You noticed too," Peter murmured.<br>"I could feel it," Jackson returned just as low. "When we were connected. I could feel his bond to me."  
>"Something I'm sure he didn't see coming." Jackson looked away, biting the inside of his cheek shortly.<br>"If he sacrifices himself I'll owe him the rest of my life." He shook his head slowly. "I'd rather be dead." Peter tsked before he could help it.  
>"Let's not all go jumping off the ship just yet. None of us are going to be playing the hero."<br>"Not even you?" Jackson challenged. Peter didn't break eye contact as Jackson looked up but he didn't answer. It would only be a lie.

_A/N: Guess what? This note also starts with an apology. It's been way way way too long between updates and I'm sorry for that._

_Not only was I busy with YDSS this story just kind of…stalled out on me. And I know this chapter was fillerish but important developments are happening! I promise. _

_Hopefully it won't be so long again._

_Thank you so very much. _


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